Paul Mason came down hard on the diving board; it groaned beneath his 200 pounds. After executing a perfect dive, he swam around lazily, letting the cool water relax him.
And he needed relaxing today. He was tired after a poor night's sleep. In fact it had been a week or more since he had slept well; he would just lie there, thinking about Cindy and about their relationship.
If only he could put his finger on what was wrong. But every time he tried to think about it he got confused; for the first time in his life he didn't know what to do about a woman.
Always before it had been easy, easy because he wanted just one thing from women. And when the excitement was gone, he had no further use for them. But with Cindy it was different, different in an irritating, sometimes frightening way.
He used her, of course, used her body; and she gave him great pleasure. But that was the trouble...she gave him too much. Sometimes it seemed that he would never be able to exhaust her, that he would never tire of her. The realization that she was changing his life both excited and frightened him.
But he let these thoughts slip from his mind as he watched Cindy come through the patio doors. She was wearing the swimsuit he liked best. Made of a very thin, almost transparent material, it never quite covered her lithe young body. And as she bent over to arrange one of the deck chairs, the bottom half of the suit slipped enticingly from her behind and gathered in the furrow between her buttocks. Annoyed, she tugged at it for a minute, but then gave up and instead turned to give him an impish smile.
She was young. She told him 20, but 17 was closer to the truth. Probably she had run away from home. Well, it didn't matter to Paul; he wasn't interested in her past.
She finally settled herself, after much wriggling, and began to read a magazine. But the quick furtive glances she gave from behind the pages told Paul that she was just waiting for him to say hello.
But not yet. Let her squirm for awhile; it always made her want him more.
He swam leisurely around the pool, his arms cutting through the water with long, powerful strokes. He could feel the tension building inside his body, could feel his manhood rising hot against the coolness of the water.
He swam to the side and stood watching her. She had drawn her knees up and spread her legs so that the suit was pulled taut across the gently rising mound of flesh that marked the junction of her full young legs.
"Hello beautiful," Paul finally called.
"Hi," she answered. She put the magazine down and walked to the edge of the pool, where she knelt and kissed him, her tongue darting between his teeth and then, slowly, along the insides of his lips.
"I thought you weren't coming today," he whispered.
"I guess I just can't stay away from you," she answered half-jokingly.
Oh God, she thought to herself, why did she have to say things like that? Why couldn't she just play the game...give him the pleasure he wanted and take the pleasure he gave? It was all he Wanted, right from the first; why couldn't it be all she wanted?
She remembered telling him she was a virgin before she had met him. And she had been. But why tell him? He hadn't asked. In fact he was quite unconcerned about who she had been with before him. It was maddening. She had even once, in a fit of anger, told him that she had another boyfriend. But Paul had just shrugged his shoulders and said it didn't really make any difference to him. She wondered now if he had really meant it. One thing was sure, she didn't want to lose him; it couldn't be as good with any other man.
And now, as she sat on the edge of the pool, with Paul's hand on her thigh, the itch between her legs was almost unbearable. She felt hot and flushed and it wasn't just from the sun. As he moved his hand slowly up her inner thigh, she felt the wetness coming from deep within her, soaking the thin material of her suit, and it was only with an effort that she kept from quivering; it was only her willpower that restrained her from grabbing his hand and placing it there. Oh God, anything to soothe that burning; if only he would put his hand there, between her legs, where she was hot and slippery for him.
He took his hand away and she groaned inwardly.
"You know, beautiful, I don't think you can stay away from me." He laughed.
There was that look in his eyes that she never quite understood: mocking, almost cruel; but then he could also be gentle, although it never lasted and he always seemed a little disgusted that he had allowed her to see that part of himself.
"Can you now?" he added.
She could not look at him, she was afraid to look at him now; so she scooted closer until she was sitting on the very edge of the pool and then leaned over to put her arms around him. Her long, silky brown hair swished silently through the hot air, covering his chest.
"You're such a bastard, Paul," she breathed hotly into his ear.
"Yeah," he laughed.
She was afraid for a minute that he would push her away. It was only when she felt his hands moving across her smooth, arched back to undo the wispy top of her bikini that she released the sigh which had been threatening to explode inside her tensed eager body.
As he moved his hands around to her front, roughly squeezing her full virginal breasts, she knew that, now at least, he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Now she had him, in the only way she could...and it was nice. Her tender sighs became a moan, her logs trembled and her belly was on fire.
Her sighs and moans excited him too, for she could feel his short heavy breathing. He pushed her back...down...away from him...down, until her shoulder blades touched the rough concrete and she was flat on her back, her open legs on a level with his mouth. He forced her legs further apart and he liked the tender insides of her thighs, sending hot electric rushes through her body. She tried to close her legs a little, she felt like she was being split in two, but he told her, roughly, to leave them open. He slipped a finger beneath the wet cloth, now stretched painfully tight across her tender mons, then tore it away, leaving her open to his eyes and tongue.
It seemed like an eternity before she felt his mouth pressing into the hot, open furrow of her belly, his tongue licking...licking...then forcing itself into her, deep into her narrow channel. She forgot about the ache in her legs and she opened them wider to receive him. She gasped as his mouth found her most sensitive spot, as with his mouth he kissed her delicately shaped clitoris. Oh how it throbbed and burned under his caress! With his mouth firmly closed around her clitoris, he gave it one long sucking bite. She clenched her fists and raised her hips to meet him.
Abruptly he took his mouth away; she moaned, long and low, rocking her head from side to side.
Putting her hand between her open legs, she felt her own throbbing flesh; she wanted to rub it, to soothe it.
"Paul, Paul, come up here...I want you!" she gasped. But she could hardly breathe. She needed him now, more than she ever had.
"No, baby, you come in the water with me," he answered.
She slipped quickly into the water to stand beside him. She was on fire. She tugged frantically at his trunks, pulling them over his hips to reveal his enormous manhood, the massive, pulsing, red-tipped shaft that she wanted-Jesus how she wanted it-slipping up her narrow passage. Oh, such exquisite pleasure, as he forced his way into the innermost depths of her belly, to where it hurt.
He pulled her into deeper water, then drew her against him and lifted her effortlessly.
She understood immediately what he desired. She could feel the delicious coolness of the water as he lifted her up, up, his strong hands cupped beneath her bottom; up, up, through the water, her firm breasts slipping across his chest, exciting her nipples until she couldn't stand it. She cried out from the pleasure and the pain of being so roughly drawn up against his body, of being crushed against him.
As her mouth reached his she could also feel his stiff, hot sex slipping between her legs; she flung her legs around his waist. He moved back and forth in her delightful furrow, his sex touching every sensitive spot. She reached down, gently squeezing his testicles; she felt the incredible hardness of his penis; she ran her hand along its length, feeling it spanning both her openings. Frantically, she pulled herself up, Paul helping her, until he was inside her. She buried her face against his neck as she wriggled down...down...impaling herself on his flesh, further and further, until she felt she was being split in two, until she was sure she couldn't take any more. She wanted to stop...it hurt...but also she wanted more. She relaxed her trembling thighs, uttering little cries of pain and pleasure as his hot flesh pierced her...deeper, deeper. Then, as the trembling began to move throughout her body, she felt his hands spreading her already open behind and his finger forcing its way into her bottom, until, impaled both front and rear, she gave herself up to the waves passing through her body, jerking against him uncontrollably. At the height of her passion she felt the hot liquid shooting from his sex into her very vitals.
CHAPTER TWO
As they relaxed by the side of the pool, sipping the cool drinks Paul had mixed, Cindy thought how much of herself she was giving to him. It worried her. Not that she was in love. No, it wasn't love, she would just be kidding herself if she thought she was in love. But what was it? What was the feeling she had for him? She sighed as she dried her long hair.
Whenever she thought of Paul, that little knot of fear was always there, in the pit of her stomach. But when they were together, especially when they were making love, she was not so afraid, until afterwards, when she felt so close and he seemed so far away.
Today it was worse. He had hardly said a word to her all afternoon. She wanted desperately to talk to him, but every time she tried, he just answered with a grunt. She wanted to cry.
Linda, one of Cindy's roommates, thought he was a little crazy. Well, maybe he was, maybe everyone was. Anyway, Linda was a little jealous. She liked Linda, but she didn't trust what she said about Paul.
Cindy glanced over at Paul as he lay stretched out on a towel by the side of the pool. She couldn't help but admire his powerful body, brown now after so many afternoons in the sun. So many afternoons...when they had lain here together. Her belly and thighs quivered with the memories of those times. But what was the use of daydreaming like this, she asked herself. Nothing but dreams. Perhaps she should go. Anyway, Katie would already be there, wondering where she was.
She thought for a minute about her 14-year-old cousin. She remembered her own fourteenth birthday, spent in a strange city, in a run-down rooming house, afraid to go outside lest the police find her and take her back to that hateful place, back to her parents' house. It wasn't her home, it hadn't been for as long as she could remember. And she would never go back; she had no reason to go back.
But there she was, dreaming again. Now she would have to hurry. She finished drying her hair and was about to put on her flimsy suit when she heard Paul's voice:
"Wait a minute, baby; not yet. Let me look at you," he said as he sat up.
She stood looking down at him, her legs open, the lips of her sex still wet from their love-making; she could feel his eyes as they wandered over her body. When he looked at her like this, her breasts would tingle and her nipples would harden, tight and pink. She wondered, suddenly, as Paul's eyes caressed her body, if Katie had ever had a man; no, probably not, she was really too young.
She stared into his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, eyes which seemed to melt her very insides; she knew she could not resist him, that in the end she would do almost anything he wanted, no matter how much it frightened her. She was his; in the end her fear and shame would melt beneath that gaze, leaving her naked. He seemed able to draw from her feelings that were buried deep inside, feelings not only of love and tenderness, but also those other, darker urges, hot and surging, threatening and evil. Ah yes, so hot...hot...and demanding. Let them come. She wanted to sink into them...hot...dark...wet. And yet for each new feeling he pulled from her, with his eyes or his hands or his sex or his passion or his indifference, for each of these feelings that were revealed, a dozen more seemed to spring forth, dark and exciting.
Her heart beat faster and faster. Now, here, standing naked before him, his eyes, dark and liquid, burned into her, melted her, drew her closer. Suddenly, her flanks quivering under his gaze, she wondered, for the first time, if he knew, really knew, what he did to her, what power he had over her, how, in the end, she had nothing she could call her own. Nothing...not even her own flesh belonged to her.
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She wanted to bend over and kiss him and comfort him. She wanted to feel his warm mouth around her nipples, biting them, while she breathed into his ear the hot obscenities coming from her wet, itching belly.
But she didn't. It was a trick; she was trying to trick herself into holding onto something...something certain. She wouldn't do it because there was nothing certain between them; and she would only be hurt by believing and acting as if there were. It would be the end.
Why was she even thinking about all this? Why was her head swimming with doubts? Why was she confusing herself with these thoughts? Why, when it was so delicious, standing here, her legs spread, Paul's hand now covering her silken mound. She could smell her own smell as it drifted up from between her legs, as it drifted up through the hot, still summer air. And even her own smell excited her, so why did she have to think about anything?
"You don't have to go yet, baby. Sit down and I'll mix another couple of drinks." Paul rose and quickly disappeared through the patio doors.
Coming back with the drinks, he stood for a moment and watched Cindy lying on her back by the pool. Yes, now he was certain...he would give her to Jenkins. But why? Was he growing tired of her, tired enough to be able to give her to another man? No, that wasn't it. Suddenly he realized that he wanted her to refuse. Her refusal, her unwillingness to give herself to him in this way...maybe...maybe it would put some distance between them, and then perhaps he could think more clearly about her. But there was still that nagging doubts-in some way, he also wanted her to say yes; wanted her, willingly, to prostitute herself. Well, he thought as he handed her the drink, he would have to go through with it, uncertain as he was...he couldn't think of what else to do.
"Do you remember that man we met last week at dinner? The fat man who kept looking at your breasts?" he asked. And he laughed as he saw the beginnings of a blush rise to her face.
Cindy laughed too as she brushed, self-consciously, at the hair falling in her face. Yes, she remembered him, huffing and puffing and sweating as he sat at their table, telling Paul about some deal. But all the while taking in her body, his eyes seldom leaving her breasts, quite prominent beneath the thin silk sheath. She wore a bra only to work, only, really, when she was around other women; the rest of the time she left her firm, thrusting breasts free, loving the feel of the different materials as they rubbed across her nipples. And this man, fat and sweaty and full of stupid business talk, had fucked her with his eyes. She laughed as she remembered how, when she was bored listening to him and mad at Paul for not telling him to leave, she had leaned forward on the table, exposing her full mounds almost to her nipples; or had leaned back in the chair, way back, pulling the silk so tight across her breasts as to leave no doubt that she was braless. She drove that fat businessman crazy; the more she leaned and stretched, the more he sweated, until he would have given anything to get one of his meaty hands inside her dress. Afterwards, when he had finally left, and she told Paul how she had felt and why she had done what she did, he just laughed and said that it didn't make any difference to him what she did. Besides, he had added, the guy had just wanted to look...that's how he got his kicks.
Now, as she listened to what Paul had to say, it appeared that this man wanted another look, only this time he wanted a better peek; and he would pay.
"Just for looking?" Cindy asked. She was surprised and a little annoyed. Was Paul really serious about this? If it was just the money, she would rather give it to him out of what she had saved. She really didn't see the point and she felt confused, but she was afraid to voice her confusion.
"Yeah, baby, just for looking. Anyhow, I'll be there just in case. All you have to do is lie on the bed and maybe wriggle around a little. Just like in the movies. He's coming by tonight if you say O.K. But...it doesn't really matter, if you don't want to I mean," Paul added, yawning.
"Sure, call him," she answered, trying to sound as if it didn't matter one way or another to her.
But it did and she didn't know why. She remembered a few weeks ago when Paul had given a party. They were all roaring drunk and having a good time when one of the men had wanted her to take off her clothes. Paul hadn't said anything, but then he was pretty drunk too. So, because it sounded like fun, she had done it, had stripped off her clothes, except for her skimpy panties. Then she had danced from man to man, rubbing up against them or putting her arms around them, only to dance away quickly before they had time to grab her, although one man had managed to pull her panties part way over her hips and she had let him run his hands up between her legs because it had felt so good. That had all been in fun; but this, this thing that Paul wanted her to do was different. She would do it, but she was sure she would be bored...or would she? There was another feeling too, welling up inside her, a feeling she couldn't identify.
As she left Paul's to walk back to her own apartment to meet Katie, she realized suddenly that she was walking faster and faster, until finally she was almost running and people were stopping to stare. But she was oblivious to them and was only conscious of her surroundings when at last she reached the door to her apartment. There she stopped and tried without much success to calm her heavy breathing. She tried hard to think of her young cousin and what she would say to her; but it was no use, the only thing in her mind was the picture of the fat businessman, panting and sweating as she bared her full young body for his greedy eyes. She shuddered, and then suddenly she realized that for some reason she was afraid. But why? She knew Paul too well to think he would let anything happen to her; so there was nothing to worry about, certainly nothing to be afraid of.
But why did Paul want her to do it? Calming herself, she entered the apartment, hoping Katie was there.
But she wasn't. In fact, Linda informed her with a sly smile, her cousin Katie had met a young boy and they had gone for a walk.
"He's a nice kid, so don't worry," Linda said, noticing the frown on her roommate's pretty face.
"No, I'm not worried about that," Cindy answered as she sat down in a chair.
She knew then why she had been so anxious to see Katie; Katie was so young and...innocent...innocent about men anyway; they could have talked about other things; it would have been so refreshing, not to have to talk about men. But now Katie would come back bursting with the news about the boy she had just met. Well, she smiled to herself, maybe that in itself would be refreshing.
While they waited for Katie to return, Cindy told Linda of Paul's request, trying hard to keep the nervousness out of her voice. As she listened, Linda walked around the room, the rough blue-denim shirt, which was all she wore, swishing around her slim hips and slipping away every now and then to reveal her white, curving bottom.
"I don't know," she said as she heard the end of Cindy's story, "it really sounds a little crazy to me, but I don't know...it might be fun...."
But Linda quickly changed the subject; and Cindy, relieved to talk about something else, told her about Katie, until, a couple of hours later, Katie herself walked in the door.
CHAPTER THREE
Now the time had come, and as she approached Paul's apartment, Cindy could feel the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Oh God, she hoped Paul was there to meet her; she wouldn't stay if he wasn't.
But he was, and, glancing quickly around the room, she -saw he was alone. He smiled at her and gazed approvingly at her dark blue silk dress; it clung enticingly to her full young haunches, outlining the front of her, the sweet gentle slope of her belly as it dipped to meet her thighs; and it was short, very short, so that she could not sit down without exposing herself. She had only worn it when she and Paul went out together, and never with any panties, for she loved the feel of the silk against her skin, loved to walk quickly and feel the material as it slipped back and forth over the lower part of her body, caressing the sensitive insides of her thighs. But tonight, as she had selected the dress, wondering vaguely why she wanted to wear this particular one, she had also decided to wear panties; they were of blue satin and hung loosely around her hips.
As she stood facing Paul, watching him admire her, she wanted suddenly to run to him and bury her face against his chest; but she could not...nor could she meet his gaze. Instead, she turned and walked to the bar, conscious of his eyes as they followed the fluid swing of her hips.
"Paul, I can't do it. I really don't want to," she said, her back still turned to him. But the words sounded strange to her, as if they were coming from someone else. She turned around and leaned against the bar for support. "Please Paul, I really can't."
Paul watched her as she moved away from the bar. But he did not answer her; in fact her words meant very little to him and he let them slip away, content as he was to watch her sensual movements. Walking over to where she was standing, he reached down and pulled the dress over her hips; he laughed as he saw what she was wearing underneath. Keeping her dress raised, he knelt down and pressed his face against the Smooth satin. She took the dress from his hands and raising it higher exposed the creamy white skin above the hem of her panties; he moved his mouth upwards, between her navel and the more luxuriant silken triangle between her legs. Her sex, hot and throbbing, burned for his kiss, and she moaned low in her throat as she felt his hand slip beneath the top of her panties; her hips, fluid and demanding, arched forward to meet the caress of his hand. He unfastened the snaps on either side of her panties and the satin slid easily down over her hips to catch finally around her knees. Now her pink, delightfully shaped clitoris, which ached so for his mouth and his tongue, was visible, thrusting sweetly up through the silken curls. But as he lowered his head to take her hot, slippery sex between his lips and teeth, she put her hands on his head to stop him, although, inflamed as she was, she could utter no words of protest.
Paul stopped as he felt the pressure of her trembling hands, his mouth directly in front of her parted thighs; and although he knew that, for some unknown reason she did not now want his caress, he was unable to resist such a tempting sight and his mouth closed around her clitoris, pulling it, sucking it, tasting her juices. Her hands released his head from their almost frantic grip and now she stroked his hair. He knew he could have continued, but he stopped after giving her one kiss and pulled away, his gaze still directed toward the center of her, where, slowly, almost reluctantly, her firm young thighs were closing.
"Let's wait," she said in a husky voice. She wet her lips and closed her eyes again, this time for only an instant, as if needing that one second to gather her strength, to gather the determination not to give in to the demands of her craving thighs. She closed her legs the rest of the way as if, by the pressure of her own flesh, she could stifle the hot itch that was threatening to inflame the rest of her body. Sighing, she bent down, pulled her panties up over her hips and fastened them.
"When is he coming?" she asked, an impish smile playing around her full lips.
"When is he coming?" he grinned up at her. "I don't know, I haven't called him yet. I thought you might want to back out, so I didn't tell him anything for sure. He's probably sitting by the phone, biting his nails and sweating."
"Well?" she asked in the same full-throated husky voice. Her face flushed and darkened with excitement and her eyes had a strange feverish gleam.
"You want me to call him, then?" he asked. He was teasing her, to finish the smoldering, already flickering flames that seemed to be racing through her body. He knew, by watching her, that she was ready.
He had never seen her like this. It was as if every part of her lovely body was alive and surging with electricity, as if her blood had thickened and now boiled through her limbs, as if any place he touched her would be hot...searing...and as if that touch, wherever it was, would send an uncontrollable shudder throughout her body. She was hot and ready and he wanted her...wanted her as he never had before...wanted to rip the panties from her lush bursting hips, wanted to pull her to the floor forcing her legs apart if necessary...anything...anything to slip his prick into her steaming, slippery flesh, to feel her quiver beneath him, to feel her long satiny legs slip and slide around his body, to feel her wet sex as it opened wider and wider to receive his own thrusting flesh, to hear her soft moanings and delightful cries of pleasure.
His need for her made the blood surge hotly through his own veins. But she was not his now; she would yield to him, yes, but to take her now would also be to lose her, for she would be able to keep part of herself from him. It was so hard to think, to reason, kneeling as he was, only a foot in front of her warm flesh, his mouth still tasting the juices of her sex and his nostrils teased by the smell coming from between her legs.
Reluctantly, against the urgings of his body, he rose to his feet and walked to the phone. But before dialing, he looked at her once again. She had not moved. Her eyes watched his deliberate movements eagerly, but now her smile had changed into one of playful mocking. Suddenly he hated this fat slob of a businessman, hated him as he had never hated another human being. Briefly, as he raised his finger to dial, he considered sending her home and forgetting about the whole business. But he knew he couldn't; he wouldn't be able to sleep that night if he did; nor would any woman's body, even Cindy's, ease his mind. He dialed the number.
* * *
She was strangely silent as they waited...moving slowly around the room...restless, yet also calm, as if she was in the midst of a mystery which, although gripping and exciting her almost beyond control, she did not want to hurry to its conclusion. In fact, the passing minutes only seemed to add to her strength, while for Paul they dragged endlessly and only increased his feeling of foreboding.
Nor did it help that she had not spoken from the time he had made the call. When she sensed that he wanted to talk, she got up and went into another room, or walked to the bar to fix another drink.
He was getting increasingly nervous and irritable, although it was only 20 minutes before they both heard the car crunching up the gravel of the driveway. Despite his attempts to quiet his nerves, he jumped as the doorbell chimed. As he walked to the door he could feel the muscles tighten in his arms and neck; he looked over his shoulder at Cindy, as if, at a signal from her he would not answer the door.
But he could detect nothing in her expression to indicate that she had changed her mind, and as he turned away he heard a soft click as she closed the bedroom door behind her. Without further hesitation Paul opened the front door.
As he stood facing the man whom he had hated only moments before, he felt strangely elated. After all, this man had come only to look; well, he could look all he wanted. Paul felt like chuckling at the same time he pitied the man, standing there, unable to look him in the eyes. He moved aside to let the man pass and as he did he felt an envelope being thrust into his hands.
Ah yes, the money; he'd almost forgotten about that. He could return it, he thought to himself, and with ease; but there was really no reason to do that, so he slipped the envelope inside the pocket of his coat, confident, even without looking, that it contained five crisp new hundred dollar bills. He trusted Jenkins.
Paul watched as Jenkins lumbered past, watched as he stopped in the middle of the room, as if waiting for some word from Paul. But Paul remained silent and finally the man turned to face him, revealing, as he did, the growing excitement on his face.
It fascinated Paul, the way the little beads of perspiration gathered on his face. But, he thought to himself, why waste time looking at him? Better to get it over with as soon as possible, even though a hard knot of apprehension was again forming in the pit of Paul's stomach. So he indicated to Jenkins which door he was to enter, then turned immediately to the bar to fix himself a drink, telling himself that he really didn't give a damn.
CHAPTER FOUR
After Cindy closed the door, leaving Paul to greet Jenkins, she leaned against it for almost a minute. She didn't know whether she wanted to take off all her clothes and dance around the room or throw herself on the bed and cry, The one thing she knew for certain-the one thing she wanted to hang onto-was that she was excited, terribly excited, so much so that it almost frightened her. She could feel her heart pounding and her firm breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing...rising, rising, the twin mounds of flesh pushing against her dress, pushing and straining, threatening to burst the material holding them in. Oh, she wanted to feel someone's hands on them, squeezing them, rubbing them; and her nipples, pink and erect and hard, so hard it almost hurt. God how wonderful to have a mouth close over her nipples, a warm, wet, strong mouth, sucking and biting, driving her crazy. Her legs felt weak; but that felt good too, the little tremblings and quivering in the lower parts of her body.
When she heard Jenkin's heavy tread approaching the door, she suddenly wanted to run and hide. But it was much too late; he was already in the room before she had time to move. Before he closed the door, she caught a glimpse of Paul as he bent over the bar, a drink in his hand. The sight of him reassured her. Now she could do it.
Cindy turned to face Jenkins. She smiled. Again she felt that strange feverish hot exhilaration. She was breathing heavily as he moved across the room to sit in a chair. Watching him, he did not seem as repulsive as he had that evening with Paul, not nearly as fat and repulsive as she remembered. She wished that he would look at her; she wanted to be looked at...yes, by him.
But after a few seconds, she realized that he was not going to look at her. In fact he had not moved after having lowered his huge frame into the chair, and much to her disappointment he remained there, sitting very still, his hands on his knees.
She could not take her eyes off his hands. They fascinated her; huge, meaty hands, completely covered with thick black hair. They were so huge! She had never seen hands like his...so large and powerful, as if he could lift her easily with just one of them.
She moved slowly towards him, her hips liquid and trembling. She stood next to him, but still he would not look up at her. She wanted to scream at him to look at her. She felt so abandoned, so flushed with excitement. But he continued to stare straight ahead.
She turned her back towards him and asked him to unzip the back of her dress. She felt his huge hand on her neck as he fumbled for the zipper. Oh, it felt so good, his hand there, the rough hairs brushing against her tender skin, his fingers...impatient...searching in the folds of the thin material covering her body. She arched her graceful neck back...back...back to meet his hand and a sigh escaped her moist half-parted lips. If only he would rip it off! Rip away the thin gauze covering her body! Then she could have his hands where she wanted them.
Her neck arched and excited by the feel of his hand, she stepped backwards until the back of her thigh brushed against his knee; now he searched even more frantically for the key that would bare her lush young body. Finding the zipper at last, he tugged at it, pulling it down, down across her back, down to where the lovely twin mounds of her bottom pushed enticingly against her dress. Finding that the zipper would go no farther and that the sight of her delightful behind was to be denied him for the moment, he sighed and took his hand away from her back. Cindy sighed also as she felt his hand leave her body.
"Be right back," she murmured as she started towards the bathroom. Her dress, now loosened, threatened to slip from her shoulders as she walked; she had to hold it up with her hand.
Once inside the bathroom, she slipped quickly out of her dress and her panties. Taking a delicately fragrant perfume from the shelf, she dabbed it sparingly on her throat and beneath her perfectly shaped breasts and on the insides of her thighs.
As she was about to return to the other room, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror at the end of the bathroom. She arched her body, raising up on her toes, feeling the muscles tighten in her thighs and back. She stretched back as far as she could go, until her body formed a graceful, curving arch...her eyes closed, her long silken hair falling free behind her. Coming back down, she felt deliciously warm and relaxed.
But she was being so stupid, she thought to herself, still looking in the mirror. That man out there, sitting in the chair...he meant nothing to her...and yet, here she was, getting ready for him, as if he was someone special. How stupid.
Closing her eyes, she tried to picture him. He was nothing but a fat, sweating man who only wanted to look at her with her clothes off. She thought for a moment that she was going to be sick, but the feeling of nausea passed quickly. Instead, she watched her mirrored image caress her naked open loins. Her hands stopped briefly to cup her silken mound of flesh, then moved, up, over her belly, to her breasts which she lifted with a gentle pressure of her fingertips...she loved the feel of her fingers against the tender flesh beneath her breasts...why didn't Paul touch her there more often? She smiled and laughed softly; and the gleam, bright and hot and taunting, was once more in her eyes. She bent over to pick up her clothes, put them on and zipped up the back of her dress.
Back in the other room, she felt more calm as again she stood with her back to Jenkins. He had not moved although this time his eyes followed her as she walked towards him-no, not followed, had caressed her as she moved.
"Do it again, baby," she whispered as she moved her leg against his knee, rubbing the sensitive bare flesh against the rough fabric of his pants.
He did not hesitate and, this time with sure fingers, he found the zipper, pulling it down the length of her back. The dress slipped from her shoulders and over her hips to reveal her exquisitely arched back, which sloped and dipped gracefully to end in an enchantingly small, supple waist. There, in the hollow of her back, he watched as tiny muscles clenched and tightened beneath the lovely skin...clenching and tightening and pulsing. But there his gaze was interrupted by the panties which covered the firm springy flesh of her behind; although there too, beneath the loose fitting panties, he could see the muscles tighten and relax...tighten to give an even more delightful thrust to the twin mounds of flesh...then relaxing, softer, but still firm.
Quite suddenly, she fell backwards into his lap, a warm throaty laugh coming from, deep within her; he had to close his legs to keep her from falling to the floor. Lying there in his lap, she raised her long smooth legs just a little, enough so that the loose-fitting satin panties covered only the slightly parted cleft between the legs. She looked up at his face, but Jenkins could not take his eyes off that part of her that was still teasingly hidden from his view.
He stroked her smooth, silky inner thighs and she opened her legs a little wider. Then, through the satin, his fingers found the fluttering lips of her sex; he squeezed the tender inflamed lips together, then, with a downward pressure, pulled them apart.
"Oh, God yes, do that!" she moaned. "Yes, your fingers there...oh...and further down, do it further down!"
She let her legs fall apart as far as they would go, until she was wide open. Then she took his hand and guided it to the sensitive area around her anus. But he did not linger there and soon she felt his fingers as again he squeezed the lips of her sex; he slipped a finger beneath her panties and found her clitoris...erect and throbbing and hot to his touch.
"Yes, oh yes!" she moaned. "Do it harder...please!"
She put her hand on his and pushed down to increase the pressure and the friction of his hand as he rubbed...back and forth...back and forth, sending little electric thrills up and down her legs and bringing little delightful sighing moans from her lovely mouth.
As she felt his huge finger slipping easily into her body she closed her legs around his hand; she did not want him to go any further; but neither did she want to give up the wonderful feel of his hand between her legs and his finger inside her. Breathing hard and with her eyes closed, she let her body relax across his legs, hoping he would not stop, that he would push his finger all the way in, that he would force his way up her hot, slippery, open hole...but wishing too that he would take his hand away. Then, suddenly, she decided, and with a quick graceful motion, she slipped off his lap and walked over to the bed. She turned and smiled.
"Oh, baby," she said in a low consoling voice, "I thought all you wanted to do was look. Isn't that all you wanted?"
He glanced around the room, then at the door leading into the living room, as if trying to see through the door to determine Paul's whereabouts. Finally he turned back to look at her, and as she saw the look on his face-a look of frustration and anger-she felt a twinge of fear and she too wished she could see through the door...just to make sure Paul was there. But he was, she was sure he was.
"I thought you wanted to...." he began. But she cut him off:
"Come on now, baby, don't you want to see me?" she said in a teasing voice. "You really haven't seen all of me yet." She moved her hands up to the snaps of her panties, lingering there, playing with the snaps, undoing one so that the satin fell away just enough to reveal the beginnings of her little mound.
"Come on now, why don't you sit over here in the chair next to me," she continued in a low, soothing voice. "You want me to get on the bed? Come on, I'll take my panties off and get on the bed, O.K.? "
As he nodded his assent and rose to come across to where she was standing, she undid the remaining snap and her panties fell to the floor. But she quickly covered her furry mound with her hand and, instead, turned around to give him a view of her high, arching buttocks. She stayed in this position until she heard him near the chair, then, without turning around she climbed on the bed. Kneeling, her back still towards him, she leaned slightly backwards, the backs of her thighs resting on her heels. Then, very slowly, she leaned forward, until her head touched the bed; she arched her back and raised her lovely posterior high into the air, while at the same time spreading her thighs as far as she could, giving him a full view of her twin valleys.
She heard him rise from the chair and she felt the liquid quivering in her belly. Oh God, it would feel so good to have his hand there, up between her legs, playing with her; she opened herself wider, wishing he would see what she wanted.
Now he was standing at the edge of the bed. She turned over and lay on her back, her long slim legs touching the floor. Oh, he was so close, standing there, towering over her. She raised up and pulled him down, pulled his head down between her open thighs.
"Lick it, lick it!" she moaned.
She brought her legs high into the air, throwing them over his shoulders. As she felt his hot thick lips against her open sex, she grabbed frantically for the front of his pants, tearing at the zipper, feeling inside for his penis, tugging at it, pulling him forward. She could feel his sex grow rigid; it was very long, but slender, not much thicker than his finger. But it didn't matter that it was slender, she just wanted it in there, she wanted to feel it all the way up inside her.
"Turn over," he panted in a deep, husky voice.
She responded quickly to his words, raising her behind high in the air, rubbing the creamy white mounds against his front, urging him on with her pantings and her sighs.
"Oh no, no, not there...please!" she cried as she felt his stiff member press against her other hole. "Please don't, you're hurting me!"
She fell on her stomach in an effort to escape the thrusts of his sex; but it was too late, for he had managed to push in part way in spite of her frantic efforts to avoid him. He was so big and heavy, pressing there behind her; she knew he would have his way. But suddenly she was tremendously excited; it felt so good, the tip of his penis lodged there just inside her anus. She relaxed the strong muscles surrounding his member and she pushed back hard trying to get it in further...she wanted it in there. God, it felt good. She grunted as he slipped in a little further; but now it hurt and she uttered a small cry of pain.
"Wait a minute!" she panted.
She lurched forward, feeling him slip from her. She reached between her legs to her own wet sex and, taking some of the liquid that by now was pouring out of her, she reached back...back to that place where she so desperately wanted him, and she smeared the warm liquid there, to make it easier for him. She reached for his penis and guided it to her now more accessible anus and she sighed as she felt him slipping in further and further...until she felt she couldn't stand it any longer...oh, it hurt...but so good. She gasped as he withdrew, only to plunge once again, deep into her bottom, into her very entrails. He moved faster and faster and she moved with him, spreading her thighs, relaxing her anus. She wanted it to last forever; but now he moved even faster, his huge body pressing her into the bed, and she gave a cry, more of disappointment than of pain, as she felt the hot liquid shoot into her behind.
She lay on her stomach and did not move as he lifted himself off her body; nor did she stir as she heard him leaving the room. But, when she was sure that he was gone, she reached back and gingerly touched the area around her anus. She winced, for it was tender and sore.
As she was about to turn over, she felt someone else's hand there, removing her own and stroking the tender flesh that had just been entered. She jumped with surprise and turned around, expecting to find Jenkins. But it was Paul. She was about to say something to him, but he didn't stop his caresses and she let her head fall back onto the bed to give herself up to the pleasure of his hand. She gasped as he put a finger into her; it hurt a little, but it also felt good. Deeper and deeper he probed, with two fingers now, and it felt wonderful. She felt bigger back there now, and, as his fingers slipped easily into her bottom, she moaned and raised her hips to meet him. Oh yes, yes, it was him she wanted, it was Paul she wanted back there.
"Oh baby, do it!" she moaned as his fingers searched ever deeper. "Do it, do it!"
She raised her hips higher and, with her long delicate fingers, she spread the creamy white mounds of her ass, opening the way for him; she felt his stiff sex slip past the strong muscular ring that she wanted so much to relax; even against her own will she fought him, he entered her easily, aided by the other man's still warm, slippery sperm.
An incredible pain filled her body as he pushed deeper and deeper into her. It wasn't like it was with Jenkins...Paul was too big! And it hurt...oh God it hurt.
Take it out, oh please oh God take it out, she wanted to cry out to him. But she couldn't; no sound would come from her throat except a strange strangled gurgling. Then she screamed, her voice piercing his ears...again and again she screamed as his stiff hot flesh tore her apart...then no sound but the gurglings deep in her throat.
Oh Jesus...please don't...please take it out Paul! she screamed silently in her head, until the pain became so intense that waves of blackness threatened to engulf her, to carry her away, to soothe the terrible searing pain.
But Paul was relentless. He pushed deeper and deeper, until she felt his warm front resting against her open buttocks. Then she knew he could go no farther and that the pain would be no worse. Knowing this, she ceased her frantic efforts to escape him; and suddenly, through the pain and the blackness, an incredibly intense wave of pleasure jolted her body, melting the muscles that had been hardened against his assault. She pulled back a little, then pushed up against him, locking her flesh with his...rubbing...rubbing. She reached back with her hands to spread the soft tender mounds even wider, enfolding him with her warm flesh...wanting him there now...and in her belly too, in her belly now streaming with the hot liquids of her desire. Yes, yes, both holes were now his.
"Do it baby!" she moaned, her hands still spreading her lovely bottom. "Do it slow!"
Spurred on by her words and her movements, he pulled back, then pushed up her anus...slowly...and her body fluttered against him. Then, swiftly, he plunged into her belly, steaming and liquid, and she groaned and breathed, deeper and deeper until she felt she would burst. She felt it coming...the waves...oh, never like this, it had never been like this!
"Oh, Paul!" she whispered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Paul paced back and forth across the luxuriously thick rug. He stopped every now and then to gaze out of the window or to pick up a magazine. But it was no good. Nothing he did today seemed to be able to take his mind off Cindy.
Damn her! Damn that cunt! Damn her for turning on to that fat slob Jenkins!
Of course he didn't have to go through with it; he could have told Jenkins to go home. But no, he couldn't have, he couldn't have, not even as he listened to the sounds of their lovemaking through the door. He couldn't have because he wanted it to happen...it was exciting...but almost unbearable. He did the only thing he could do, he got drunk and waited, all the while wanting her more and more until he thought he would go crazy with desire.
After Jenkins left, there had been a moment when Paul didn't know what to do,...he reached a point where his mind stopped functioning. He didn't want to have to decide what to do.
But finally he had gone into the bedroom. As he stood over the bed, looking at the other man's sperm oozing out of her lovely behind, she was more exciting than at any other time...he wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman.
And that look in her eyes as soon as she saw who it was! That look which said, "It's you I really want, Paul...Jenkins didn't matter...he's gone...and I want you to fuck me!"
He had taken her then, plunging deep into both her holes; he had never felt such passion as last night; and afterwards, he felt completely drained and relaxed. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms almost immediately.
But now, in the cool light of early morning, with Cindy gone, he felt a sudden panic. He didn't want to see her again. He was, he admitted to himself, afraid to see her again now, afraid of how much he wanted her. Would he never stop wanting her?
But it wasn't just that he wanted her. She was doing something...to him. She was too willing, too able to give herself to him...in all ways. He felt she was trying to smother him with her willingness, Up to a certain point, this is what he wanted, for her to give herself and not hold anything back. But then, then something happened, something that had never happened with any other woman...then he felt obligated to give something back to her, something more than just the pleasure of sex. And he didn't want to, he didn't want any other feelings.
It wasn't that she said anything to make him feel this way. She hadn't even hinted that she wanted anything more permanent than an affair.
No, she never really said anything...but damn her! She didn't have to say it. It was always there, in the way she acted, in the way she gave herself.
Of course the most maddening part was that he still wanted her. It was a fact that his mind might try to deny-and he did try to deny it, tried to rationalize his position, tried to convince himself that he could keep control of the situation. But although his mind could deny it, his body couldn't. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape the feelings she caused to surge and swell through his body, the feelings, hot and aching, of wanting her soft flesh. And there was no end to it. Each time he plunged into her moist cunt or the narrower channel of her behind, each time seemed better than the last and each time pointed to the next. . . which would be better yet.
Jesus, how he wanted it! That warm wet cunt of hers. How he wanted to sink into her, to lose himself in her, to feel...what? To feel what? The question scared him. What more than the pleasure of her warm wet flesh enfolding his own? What more than that frantic, almost painful coiling of his body before the hot liquid spurting from him. What more?
No, there was nothing more, nothing that he wanted anyway.
But now he had to do something. He had to get control of his life again. He had to get away from Cindy before she completely smothered him, before she engulfed him, he had to get away now, while there was still some part of him left. And he had to get far away; he didn't trust himself to be so close to her, to be able to pick up the telephone and have her come over.
He stood in the middle of the room, deep in thought.
Yes, that was really the only thing to do...leave...drive across country. The drive would do him good; it would clear his mind and it would give him time to think. And with Cindy far behind, maybe it would be easier to think.
He poured himself a drink. Now that he had decided to leave, he felt calmer. Now that the pressure of indecision was gone, he could think more clearly.
He would need some money. Alex would have it, so that was no problem. He wanted to see Alex anyway; maybe if he talked to someone.. .
What else? Nothing really. Just get in the car and go, without thinking about it.
He hurriedly packed a few things and then quickly left the apartment. The sun was just showing over the tops of the trees; it would be a nice day.
He climbed into the low slung sports car and turned the ignition; the car roared and crackled to life. He jammed it into first and tore away from the curb, tires screeching against the pavement, leaving a thin cloud of smoke and a smell of burned rubber behind. The car answered his every command. He drove it hard and fast, almost ruthlessly, but for all the punishment he gave it, it never failed him. He felt better now, as he always did, having this sleek machine throbbing beneath him.
He pulled into the parking lot and hurried into the building. Alex had a nice place. Expensive. But then Alex was a good businessman. His business was women; he ran two houses that Paul knew of. One of them was very high class, but phony, Paul thought. You didn't go to a whorehouse to sit in two-hundred-dollar chairs and listen to classical music. But, he had to admit it, Alex had fine taste in women. He'd been around the world several times to pick the women he wanted to work for him; and it certainly had paid off.
Paul knocked on the gleaming mahogany door leading into Alex's apartment. Alex yelled for him to come in.
"Paul! Been a long time." Alex looked up from a huge pile of papers on his desk.
"Come in and have a seat," he continued. He removed his horned-rimmed glasses to reveal piercing coal-black eyes; he watched Paul intently as he entered the room and took a seat near the desk.
Paul began to feel uncomfortable almost immediately. He wanted just to ask Alex for some money and then leave. It wouldn't do any good talking to him...about Cindy...it wouldn't do any good to talk to anyone about it. He took a deep breath. It would be better if he came right to the point with Alex.
"Alex, I want to borrow a couple of hundred." He could always ask for more if he needed it later; Alex was free with his money.
"O.K., that's no problem," Alex answered quietly. He reached into his desk drawer and brought out his checkbook. "By the way, I was going to call you later this week to invite you to a party. Interested?"
Any other time and he would have been interested. Alex's parties were lavish; and Paul had met some beautiful women there. But he wasn't in the mood now, not even to listen. All he wanted was for Alex to finish the check so he could be on his way. He didn't answer, but Alex went on anyway.
"It's going to be a good one," he said, winking at Paul and glancing over to the sofa in the far corner of the room.
There, stretched out on a pile of dark red pillows, lay one of the most beautiful women Paul had ever seen. She was Eurasian, he thought. She wore a saffron colored kimono, half of which fell away as she moved languidly on the pillows. There was nothing underneath. With incredibly large liquid brown eyes she followed Paul's every movement. But as he looked at her, he noticed that the expression on her face never changed, not even as he gazed openly at the half of her which was no longer covered by the kimono. She had a sleepy look, almost as if she was drugged.
"She's nice, isn't she?" Alex laughed. "Her father was French and her mother Chinese. I found her wandering in the streets in Hong Kong, half dead with hunger. Hadn't had anything to eat in days. She probably would have starved if I hadn't brought her back. Isn't that right, beautiful?"
She turned her gaze towards Alex, but still the expression on her face did not change. She glanced back at Paul, then slowly turned over onto her stomach, thus hiding the lovely charms of her lithe brown body. But her head, as it rested on one of the pillows, continued to face Paul's direction.
"Her name is Lisa," Alex continued. "She speaks English...when she wants to. Anyhow, she'll be there at the party. And lots more, the best I have. So come if you want." He handed Paul the check.
Alex got up and walked over to the bar, where he poured them each a drink. Paul watched Alex for a moment, but then his eyes turned towards Lisa. Still she hadn't moved. He imagined that her soft brown skin would be fragrant with some subtle perfume.
"By the way," Alex said as he walked back with the drinks. "Did you know that Al broke out of the asylum?"
Al. The mention of his name jolted Paul and he forgot about Lisa. Suddenly the memory of that whole affair rushed back into his mind. Margo...he hadn't thought of her in over a year. He sighed. He wondered if Al still blamed him for his sister's death.
Margo...that horrible night.
He hadn't wanted to go back to the apartment. He knew there would be a scene. Always there was a scene. They both knew it was over...it had been finished between them for a long time...but still he knew there would be a scene; she wanted it that way.
As soon as he walked in the door and looked at her face he knew it would be bad. Right at that moment he regretted he had ever met Margo.
There was hate on her face and she did little to try to hide it.
"Why not just tell me to get out, Paul? Tell me to fuck off or something. Isn't that your style?" She looked ugly, her mouth twisted into a sneer.
He turned away from her, but she came across the room and stood close to him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but she took it away when he didn't respond.
"All right, Paul," she said, her voice flat, cold...like death. But there was something else, too, a hint of mockery. He turned and faced her.
"So you got what you wanted, didn't you?" she said with a thin smile. "All you ever wanted was my body...and now you're tired of me...and you expect me just to leave. That's it, isn't it?"
He didn't want to answer; there was really nothing to say. But he knew she wouldn't leave until he did.
"Yes, I want you to leave," he said calmly. "It's over and the dramatics won't help anything."
Margo said nothing. She took a last look at him and then left. She was too calm; he knew something was really wrong, but there was nothing he could do.
Then death! Margo had died two hours later, taken her own life. The whole thing was like a bad dream. And the worst part had been her note, written just before she had jumped to her death...she was doing it because of him! Because he had used her! It was all absurd, but it had shaken him. She had to be crazy to do something like that...but maybe there was some truth in what she said. He didn't want to think about it.
But here it was...back again...as if it had just happened yesterday.
And now Al was out; and maybe looking for him. Al had blamed Paul for his sister's death...he had threatened to get even, had threatened his life. But before he had a chance to carry out his threat, he was picked up on a morals charge and committed to an institution for the criminally insane. And now he had broken out.
Paul looked at Alex, his friend obviously was waiting for some reaction to the news of Al's escape. But Paul looked away. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget about it...but he couldn't.
Alex sensed Paul's mood. He put his drink down and started towards the door.
"Be back in a couple of hours. I have some business to take care of," Alex said. "Stay if you want...everything here is yours."
Paul didn't understand for a minute. Yes of course...Lisa. Alex was giving him Lisa; Alex was free with his women too.
As he watched Alex leave, his thoughts returned to the trim Eurasion girl lying on the couch. She was very desirable and he wanted her perfumed flesh...but there was something wrong.
Her liquid eyes were still fixed on him. She turned on her side and the kimono once again fell away.
This is more like it, he thought as he walked across the room to where the girl was lying. Now he was the master, and the woman...the woman was there to give pleasure. Lisa knew it and she wanted it that way. Now he felt the old familiar surge of energy rushing' through his limbs. He felt strong and confident. They understood each other, he and Lisa; they didn't need words.
But suddenly he stopped...because it wasn't Lisa lying there on the couch, waiting for him...it was Margo, and her face was distorted with hate, like it had been that night, her mouth moving in silent curses. But as he watched in horror, Margo gave way to Cindy, Cindy who was smiling and holding out her arms to him.
"Oh God!" he groaned. He felt icy cold. He closed his eyes and there was Cindy...dead...like Margo. Oh Jesus, was the same thing going to happen? Would Cindy end up by killing herself? Would she accuse him as Margo had done?
And now Al would be looking for him.
Paul was suddenly afraid and he wanted to run. He didn't know, really, why he was so afraid. Maybe it was because of Al...maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to Cindy that happened to Margo. He didn't know. The only thing certain was that he had to flee.
CHAPTER SIX
Cindy was worried. Now, as she tried to do the shopping, she found herself picking up the wrong item, or she would pass right by something on her list. She should have let Linda do it; she just wasn't in the mood today.
It was Paul she was worried about. Where was he? Why had he just disappeared? She was afraid he was in some kind of trouble.
Of course, she thought bitterly, he had no intention of telling her if anything was wrong. He never told her anything until he was good and ready. Angrily she grabbed at a package and threw it into the cart. He hadn't said anything...he hadn't even left her a note. Why didn't he ever tell her anything? Why did he leave her in the dark to worry?
She was almost in tears now, but she was determined to finish the shopping. And so, trying not to think of Paul, she walked up and down the aisles, selecting the things they needed for dinner.
Walking back to the apartment where Linda and Katie were waiting for her, she suddenly felt completely exhausted, as if the only thing she wanted to do was to go to bed and stay there for several days. But that was silly, she told herself. After all, maybe it wasn't as serious as she imagined; and if it wasn't, then all this worry and strain that she was going through was for nothing. Maybe...but she still wasn't sure. She sighed as she turned the corner.
Now that's funny, she thought to herself. She stopped, taking a long look at the blue sedan parked about a half a block away from the apartment. That car had been there all morning. Yes, she was sure it was the same one. And something else, too: last time there had been three men in it, now she saw that it was empty. Suddenly, although she could not explain it, she was afraid; she wished Paul was there. She took a deep breath, telling herself that there was really nothing suspicious about a car being parked for half a day in the same spot...there she was, working herself up again. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to go out of the house without imagining all sorts of things. But still she had a funny feeling as she walked past the car; she kept her eyes straight ahead, although she very much wanted to stop and look.
As she hurried up the steps she felt goose-bumps at the back of her neck, as if someone...they...were watching. She couldn't wait to get inside but in her anxiety she couldn't find the right key. Finally she rang the buzzer, hoping one of the girls would answer quickly. She breathed a sigh of relief as Katie's pretty face peeked around the corner of the door.
"Forgot my key," Cindy laughed, trying to hide her nervousness.
"Oh, Cindy," Katie wailed, "I have to go home tonight. My stupid mother called while you were out; they're worried about me or something. And I was having such fun with you and Linda. Can't you do something, Cindy?" Katie screwed up her face at the thought of having to go back home. "Besides," she continued in a sly voice, "I still haven't met Paul. Or maybe you're afraid he'll like me," she added, looking up coyly through her long lashes.
The sound of Paul's name sent a little shiver down Cindy's back; she was afraid again. But it passed quickly. Anyhow, she had to laugh at the expression on Katie's face. It reminded her again of how good it was to have Katie staying at the apartment...she was so pretty and vivacious and so cheerful.
"Well, after I put these groceries away, I'll call your mother; I guess I can persuade her to let you stay for a few more days," Cindy answered.
"Oh, here, I'll put them away for you," Katie answered quickly. "You go ahead and sit down and rest and...then you can call...oh please, Cindy, I really don't want to leave."
"O.K., I promise I'll call. Just as soon as I have a drink."
"Let me fix it for you," Katie said as she struggled with the large bag of groceries.
"O.K., " Cindy answered. "Say, where's Linda and Raymond?"
"Oh, they're in the bedroom, I guess. You know, they're always in the bedroom," she giggled as she went into the kitchen to put away the groceries.
Cindy laughed, but as the kitchen door closed behind Katie she became nervous again. She paced up and down the room. Finally she stopped by one of the big picture windows and pulled the curtain aside. Now it was gone! The blue sedan was gone! She looked again, up and down the street, but the car was nowhere in sight. She didn't know whether that made her feel better or not. Just as she was about to take another look, she heard Linda and her boyfriend come out of the bedroom.
"Whatcha looking at?" asked Linda.
"Nothing, I guess." Cindy took another look, then turned around to face them. "Have either of you noticed a blue car parked up the street?"
"Blue car?"
"Oh well, it doesn't really matter," Cindy said quickly. "You two going out?"
"Yes, Ray and I are going out for dinner. Won't be back till late." Linda noticed the frown on Cindy's face. "Is there something wrong, Cindy? Want me to stay? Is that O.K. with you, Ray? Let's stay here tonight."
"No, no, don't be silly, Linda, nothing is wrong," Cindy answered hurriedly. "It's just...well, I guess I miss Paul, that's all. And I get worried about him sometimes."
"Worried about Paul? He's the last person you have to worry about; he can take care of himself. Anyway, if you're sure you don't want us to stay . . . , " she began.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure. You two go ahead. And have fun."
Cindy walked out into the street with them and watched them drive away. Then, just to satisfy her own curiosity, she walked around the block; but the blue car was nowhere in sight. There, she thought to herself as she walked back to the apartment, that should settle it. She was determined not to worry about anything else for the rest of the night. Maybe she and Katie could go to the movies, after she had called Katie's parents.
She stopped dead in her tracks as she opened the door and took in the scene before her: there was Katie, her slim hands tied behind her back, her eyes enormous with terror. A gag was shoved in her mouth, against which she struggled in vain, shaking her head violently from side to side, as if trying to warn Cindy to run. But it was too late, for she felt a pair of strong hands pulling her inside and then slamming the door; then a hand was clamped over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Without thinking, she bit down hard, tasting blood, hearing the man cry out in pain. The next thing she knew she was on the floor, the whole left side of her face numb from the blow she had received; she looked up at the man standing above her, the blood dripping from his hand.
"O.K., we'll forget about this one," he growled, holding up his injured hand, "but if you try anything like that again, you're going to get hurt...and I do mean hurt.
"Now, where's Mason?" he asked in a soft evil voice that sent shivers of fear through her body.
Cindy looked up at him as he towered above her and she shuddered as she saw the huge purple scar that ran the length of his cheek; it was an ugly, evil-looking scar and it seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She looked at Katie, still struggling to free herself; and then she saw the other two men, off in a corner. One was tall and swarthy with nervous fingers, the other, also tall but with a powerful body, was smiling at her while opening and closing a long knife.
"Come on, come on, we ain't got all day, sister," repeated the man with the scar.
As she listened to his insistent, demanding voice, she knew she would have to give him an answer; she would have to tell him something. But what? She didn't know where Paul was and even if she did she wouldn't have told them; she would have lied, told them anything to protect him. Oh, Paul! Paul! She felt sick.
So he really was in trouble. These men, whatever they wanted, meant business...and now she and Katie were in danger...if she didn't tell them something...or if they didn't believe her when she said she didn't know. She wanted to get up, she wanted to stand up and face them, but she hadn't the strength in her legs.
"We already asked your little friend over there, but she didn't know anything; so now we're asking you," he said in the same evil voice.
Oh God, she thought to herself, they haven't hurt Katie have they? But a quick glance in Katie's direction assured her that Katie had not been harmed. They had probably figured that she really didn't know and so they had just tied her up and waited. But now they thought she knew!
"I...." she began, but the words wouldn't come. Her mouth felt dry; she swallowed hard and started again: "Paul didn't say where he was going...or when he was coming back...he just didn't tell me," she answered, her voice shaking.
"Come on, sister, you gotta know; you're fucking him, ain't you. Huh?" he said, kneeling front of her. "Yeah, and I'll bet you're a pretty good lay. Now, where's Mason?"
"But I don't know where he is, really I...."
He leaned over and struck her hard on the cheek, bringing tears to her eyes. His face was close to hers and it seemed that her whole field of vision was taken up by his ugly purple scar. She was afraid now that they might be killed. But what could she do? Nothing really. If Katie wasn't here, she might have a chance...she might be able to get to the door before they caught her. But she couldn't do it, knowing that even if she did escape, Katie would be at their mercy. Maybe there was another way. But before she had time to think, one of the other men, the one who had been playing with the knife, walked over and joined them.
"Hey, Al, let's forget about Mason," he said.
"What do you mean, forget about Mason? Listen, Tony, that son of a bitch killed my sister. He's going to pay for that."
"But Al, I thought you said...."
"Listen, you creep. I spent a year in that nut house...and all that time I was thinking of how to get even...and now I'm gonna get even! That's why I broke outa there, and that's why I helped you guys break out...or have you forgotten that already?"
"Naw, Al, I ain't forgotten, but you said Tony looked at the other man for support-"
"You said we'd get some money out of Mason first...for the girl. Remember, Al, you said he'd pay $50,000 to get her back. We had it all set up, to use my cabin...."
Oh God, now Cindy knew who these men were; she remembered Paul saying something about Al and his sister...that she had killed herself and that Al had threatened to get even. And now these three men were here...they had broken out of an insane asylum!
"Why are you trying to back out?" Al snapped.
"Cut it out, Al, you're confusing me...you know I get confused easy," Tony said. He put his hands to his head as if trying to clear his mind. Keeping his hands pressed to his temples, he began to walk around the room.
"No, Al, I won't do it. You promised we'd get some money. Didn't he, Petey?" Tony looked at the other man.
"Yeah, Al, you promised," Pete answered.
"O.K., O.K., you creeps, we'll take them to the cabin and wait for Mason," Al growled. "When he comes, we grab some cash...and we can have some fun while we're waiting...."
Pete walked over to Katie and began to untie her.
"O.K., sister, you and your little friend are going to take a little trip," Al said to Cindy. "Come on, let's go." He reached down and roughly pulled her to her feet. "And look, don't try nothing! Cause if you do, Tony here will cut you up into little pieces."
"You don't need her, do you?" Cindy asked, looking over at Katie. "She won't do you any good. I'll go with you and I won't make any trouble...but can't you leave her here?"
"Are you crazy?" said Al. "Leave her to blab to the cops? You think I want to go back to that place? Anyhow," he continued, looking at Katie, a leer distorting his face, "she looks kinda nice...wouldn't mind fucking her myself."
Cindy realized suddenly that it was no use trying to reason with these men...they were really crazy enough to kill them right there in the apartment.
"All right, let's go. And remember, no funny business."
They walked slowly down the stairs, the two girls in front. Cindy smiled at Katie, trying to cheer her up. But it was no use; they both knew there was nothing they could do...they were at the .mercy of three animals.
As they drove out of the city, Cindy looked blankly out of the window, trying not to think of what might happen to them. But Tony, who was sitting next to her, was a constant reminder. He had put his knife away, but just one look into his eyes made her feel weak and frightened. His eyes! Crazy, laughing eyes that seemed to say: "I just can't wait to get my knife into you, baby, to see you squirm with pain." And he kept looking at her legs, only just covered by her short skirt, and then back into her eyes, his own eyes gleaming, as if he was hinting at some sickening secret. It made her shiver and sweat just to be sitting next to him.
Al was driving. Suddenly he glanced into the back seat. "Tony, you keep that knife in your pocket until we're through with these broads; we don't want them cut up before we've had our fun...you hear me Tony?"
"Yeah, I heard you," Tony answered, meeting the other's gaze in the mirror. The crazy gleam in Tony's eyes was subdued a bit. He hesitated a minute, then, as if gathering his strength, he continued:
"Hey, Al, how's Mason going to know where we are?"
"Shit, I knew we shoulda stayed there," Al grumbled. "Now we gotta go back. I'm not going to let Mason get away."
Al slowed down and was about to turn the car around when Tony interrupted him.
"Listen, Al, I got it all figured out...it'll be easy. We just leave him a note, see, at his broad's place...tell him we kidnapped her and we're holding her until he comes. And he will come...won't he, baby?" he said, looking at Cindy, his eyes gleaming with demented lust. He slipped his hand beneath her short skirt, but when he felt her silken sex, he withdrew his hand quickly, as if startled that she wasn't wearing any panties. She was sure that she saw a flicker of disgust in those crazy eyes of his, but whatever she had seen passed quickly, and he just smiled at her, a knowing, lurid smile, then settled back in the seat to wait for Al's answer.
"O.K., O.K., so somebody's gotta go back and leave Mason a note," Al mumbled. "I don't trust neither of you guys, so I'll go; but I'm warning you, Tony, you keep that knife away from these broads until I get back."
Tony mumbled his assent.
They sped out of the city and soon were in the foothills. The road was worse now, but Al continued to wheel the car around the corners at high speeds and every once in awhile Cindy was thrown against Tony's body. She shuddered at each of these contacts.
Now the scrub oaks were replaced by tall dark pines. It was getting colder and also harder to breathe as they climbed into the mountains. Cindy recognized some of the landmarks. She knew approximately where they were taking them, but it didn't really matter...they would never be able to escape.
Cindy tried to think of other things, but the one fact that loomed large, the one fact that seemed to pound in her brain was that she and Katie might never get out of this alive. And now they were planning to kill Paul, they were planning to lure him to the cabin and then kill him. She tried desperately to think of some way of warning him, but there was none. She felt sick.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keeping the car in second, Paul slipped in and out of traffic, heading for the outskirts of the city...and then the open road.
But something was wrong. Some force seemed to be pressing and squeezing him, choking him almost...some memory or feeling, perhaps, something that he was afraid to let into his conscious mind. But it wasn't that simple, he thought to himself. It wasn't just one thing. It was his whole life, his whole life which seemed to be coming down over him like a steel net, engulfing him, binding him. It had been building, this feeling of being trapped, for the last month. Now he had to do something; something clean and powerful. He had to do something more than just leave the city. He had to conquer! And he would...he would conquer death. He would risk his life and win...not for any reason he could easily put into words, but because he had to.
His mouth was dry with the anticipation of what was to come. Blindly, almost furiously, he took the corner on two wheels. Ah, that's better, he thought as he emerged onto a long, straight, deserted street. His heart beat wildly at the thought of the treacherous bend in the road which lay about a mile ahead; even in this car, which he knew so well and which was so responsive, even in this car he had always slowed down for that curve...it was not banked, it was flat out. And that was dangerous.
He stepped hard on the accelerator and the car jumped ahead, tires screeching...50...60...70...then shifted into third...houses, streetlights, flashing past in a blur...100...still plenty of road ahead.
He took a deep breath and searched the road for the turn he knew was coming up fast. Yeah, there it was. He let upon on the gas, entered the turn at 80, then immediately slammed his foot to the floor, just avoiding fish-tailing...even so he had to fight for control and he was half a mile down the next straightaway before he knew that he had done it.
He had done it and he had won! His mind still reeled with the excitement of the challenge he had just taken. He wiped the sweat from the palms of his hands and breathed deeply.
Now, as he drove more slowly, out towards the highway, he could feel the fatigue of the last few days. The exhilaration of his victory was gone and he felt tired. He couldn't drive far feeling this way. He reached into the glove compartment for his bottle of Benzedrine, but, as he had feared, it was empty. Damn! That meant another stop, at Dr. Andersons for more Benzedrine. Of course he didn't have to stop; he could drive for a few hours and then sleep someplace. But he didn't want to do that; even though he didn't know exactly where he was going, he wanted to keep moving. So he needed the pills.
* * *
He pulled into the gravel driveway in front of the office and parked the car. It was almost five o'clock and it didn't look like he had any other patients.
"Dr. Anderson here?" he asked the pretty, red-haired receptionist.
"No, he's out of town," she answered, looking down at the appointment book in front of her. "If it's something urgent, I can make an appointment with Dr. Porter; he can see you tomorrow."
"No, it's not that important." He watched as she closed the book and reached around to put it on the table in back of her. Even the heavily starched uniform could not hide her large full breasts; he imagined the rest of her body would be just as exciting. And there was something else he liked about her, something that was quick and alive beneath the cool nurse-like manner of hers. He wanted to find out if he was right.
"What happened to Suzy? Did she finally get married?" he asked, moving forward to sit on the edge of the desk.
"Suzy? Oh, the other nurse you mean? I don't know what happened to Suzy; I've been here four months; Suzy was gone when I arrived. My name is Emily. What's yours?"
"Paul Mason," he answered, returning her smile.
"Paul Mason," she repeated almost absent-mindedly. "Oh yes, you're an old friend of the doctor's, aren't you? I've heard him mention your name a few times."
"Yes, the doctor and I are old friends. And now that we've established that bond, how about giving me a few bennies out of that big blue pill jar he keeps in the back?"
"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Mason, the doctor...."
"Call me Paul."
"O.K., Paul then," she replied. "But Paul, I really can't give them to you if the doctor isn't here; I'd like to, but I really can't. Couldn't you come back tomorrow? I know the doctor will be back by then. Anyhow," she said, lifting her arms over her head and raising her full, ripe breasts, "I was just about to close up shop; it's been a busy day without the doctor here and I want to go home and get into a nice warm tub and forget all about pills and shots and expectant mothers. I've had it for today. You see before you one hell of a tired nurse."
"No, tomorrow is too late. Look, why don't you close up the office and then get the doctor on the phone. Then he can give you the O.K. Come on," he said, getting up and going over to the window, "I'll pull the blinds and lock the door; then we can have the place to ourselves and you can make the call."
"You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you, Paul?"
"That's right," he answered. "Today I have no time to take no for an answer."
"O.K., I'll see if I can reach him. But I'm not promising anything; and if I can't get hold of him, I still can't give you the pills. Agreed?"
As he looked into her cool green eyes, he realized that she didn't know quite what to do; she didn't know quite how to act towards him. She was nervous and a little afraid. He liked that about her too...it was charming in such a beautiful woman. If he hurried her now, it would be over...she would really get scared and she would back away and be cool and distant. So, he had to be patient and gain her confidence.
"Agreed," he answered.
He walked over to the window and pulled the blinds; he locked the door and then turned back to Emily. She had removed the starched white nurse's cap, allowing her luxuriant red hair to fall free over her shoulders. He felt his prick rising as he thought of the silken triangle of hair nestling between her thighs; it would also be red.
"Oh yes, that's better," she said as she gave her pretty head a shake. "I always feel better when the end of the day comes and I can take that thing off.
"Do you have a cigarette, Paul ? Just one, and then I'll call. Promise."
"Yes, of course," he answered as he walked over to where she was sitting.
As he bent over to light the cigarette he caught a whiff of the perfume she was wearing; it seemed to suit her perfectly: cool and lush and fragrant.
She took a deep drag and leaned back in the chair; her eyes met his but then she looked away quickly. He was sure that she was aware of the physical attraction they had for each other. But she wasn't ready yet to acknowledge it. In his growing impatience, it was only with an effort that he did not reach down and put his hands on her generous breasts.
But he could wait.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They had been traveling for what seemed like hours and hours when at last Al pulled onto a small dirt road that intersected the main highway. They traveled that for a few minutes, slowing now and then to avoid the large rocks and the deep ruts. It didn't look to Cindy like anyone had been along the road for a long time.
There it is," Al said as they pulled up to a large ramshackle cabin surrounded by tall pines.
The windows, Cindy noticed, were almost all broken, the missing panes of glass replaced by wooden boards. The whole building looked to her like it might collapse at any minute. The steps creaked ominously as the five of them entered.
Cindy and Katie screamed as a huge black dog bounded toward them. It stopped halfway across the room and sniffed, as if it recognized the three men; then, sure of who they were, the dog wagged its tail vigorously.
"Hey Al, look!" yelled Tony. "Blackie's here. Hey, old boy, you've been up here for three months all by yourself."
He knelt in front of the dog and threw his arms around its neck. The other two men watched, mildly interested.
"You're a pretty smart dog, aren't you, taking care of yourself all this time. Hey, I'll bet you're hungry. But why did you run away? We looked all over for you. What's the matter, didn't you like us anymore?"
It made Cindy shudder, the way he was talking to the animal...as if Tony really believed the dog could understand.
"Hey Al, pretty smart dog, huh?"
"Yeah, yeah, smart dog. So you got him back. Now come on, we got things to do."
"Al doesn't like you," Tony crooned into the dog's ear. "But that doesn't matter, because I do. Now, don't run away again." His eyes were closed as he talked to the dog and his hands caressed the wiry black hairs on its head.
Tony got up, a hurt look on his face. As he walked over to join the two men, his hand dipped into his pocket. Cindy was sure he had his hand around his knife.
"Now look," Al said, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Tony, you keep that knife in your pocket, cause if you don't, you may just find it sticking out your back. O.K., I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said as he went out the door.
They all listened as the car crunched down the rock-strewn road, until, finally, the only sound was the whistling of the wind through the tops of the tall trees.
"Now," Tony said in a quiet voice, "wasn't that nice of Al to go away and leave us these two beautiful...." He hesitated. ". . . and it's been a long time, hasn't it, Pete, since we had anything this nice?"
"Yeah, it sure has...it sure has," Pete answered, laughing, looking first at Cindy and then at Katie. "And you know what, Tony?" he continued, his eyes now on Katie, "I'll bet this one still has her cherry. Isn't that right, baby?" He got up from the cot and walked over to where Katie was standing; seeing him approach, her beautiful blue eyes grew large with fright. "Isn't that right?" he repeated. "I'll bet you never had it up between your legs. Ah, come on now, I'm not going to hurt you. Why don't you take those pants off and we'll have some fun." He looked down at the jeans that fit snugly around Katie's slim, almost boyish hips. "I bet you're real nice, so let's see it," he continued, his tone more demanding.
Katie looked at Cindy for help. Both girls were standing in the middle of the room, the two men standing between them and the door. But even had they been able to escape, there was no place to go...just the forest. They looked at each other helplessly, knowing, with a sinking feeling in the pits of their stomachs, that they were helpless. Cindy looked away, out of one of the unbroken windows, and she suddenly wondered about Al. But Tony interrupted her thoughts, and, as if reading her mind, he said:
"Don't worry about Al, honey; he's a long ways away. Besides, he doesn't care what we do, just so long as we don't hurt you...and we don't want to hurt you, we just want to have a little fun. Only it'll be easier if you cooperate."
Cindy stared at him in disbelief, at his eyes which now gleamed as if they were on fire. She remembered the knife in his pocket; he would use it, too, if they didn't cooperate; and he would tell Al that they had tried to escape. She looked at the other man, Pete; he was standing in front of Katie, his fingers on the top button of her pants; and his own pants bulged as his excitement rose.
"O.K. now, baby, take your pants off," Pete repeated.
But first, before she had time to comply with his demand, he took her slender trembling hand and pressed it against the front of his pants.
"Feel it, baby...rub it...yeah, that's it; you like the way it feels, baby?"
As she felt him through his pants, as her fingers grasped the unfamiliar object, squeezing it and feeling his warmth, Katie looked up at him, tears in the corners of her big eyes. But her breathing, now, was coming faster, matching his own, and she closed her eyes as his fingers fumbled with the front of her jeans. He slipped the jeans from her slim hips; she gasped as the cool air hit her bare thighs. She was wearing a pair of Cindy's brief panties-they just covered her tender mons. Pete jerked them down over her hips and ran his hand up between her slender legs. But she locked her trembling thighs around his hand.
"Oh no, no, no!" she cried in a weak, frightened voice. "Please don't, please!"
He tumbled her to the floor, his hand still between her naked loins, then pulled his hand free and tugged the jeans and panties all the way off. "No, no!" she moaned as he ripped open the thin blouse that covered her tender virginal breasts. Getting out of his own pants, revealing his upraised red-tipped penis, he fell on top of her, wedging a hairy leg between her locked thighs to spread her. Now, her pink virginal sex open, he plunged into her young belly, undaunted by her screams of pain or the thin trickle of blood that spotted her white skin. Further and further he plunged, excited and spurred on by the incredible tightness of her vagina. He grunted as he slipped up her channel, and, holding her small smooth bottom with his hands, he raised her up, spreading her even more, until, finally, he could go no farther and he lay quietly for a moment, couched between her soft, girlish thighs, the wiry black hair around his prick rubbing against the soft yellow down covering her sex.
Katie's eyes were closed, tears streaming from beneath her closed lids, her golden hair spread out around her head. As he lay quietly between her legs, her own thighs, which had been rigid with the pain of his assault, began slowly to flutter...but these little involuntary tremblings gave way to deliberate movements; she raised and lowered her legs and pressed them gingerly against his body. Excited by her movements, he renewed his plunging up her narrow channel. She moaned and gasped with pain.
"Oh, no, don't...it hurts!" she cried.
But now she was only half sure that she wanted him to stop. Once again she pressed her legs against his body, but tighter this time; and, as he moved inside her, she began to move with him, clumsily at first, causing him to slip out several times; each time he reentered her tight vagina, her cries were less those of pain and more of pleasure, until finally she reached down and with her own slender fingers she guided his prick between the folds of her tender cleft...and as she felt him enter her, she slung her legs over his back and sighed; the color rushed back into her pretty face and she moaned through half-parted lips.
Suddenly he withdrew his sex from between her thighs, "Turn over, I want it the other way too," he commanded her, his voice hoarse with excitement.
"Oh no, you can't! Take me instead," Cindy pleaded.
"Can't I baby; you just watch." Pete roughly turned Katie over onto her stomach, running his hands over her small, tight bottom.
"You want it this way too, huh?" he said to Cindy, his face twisted into a leering smile. "Yeah, I'll bet you're nice back there."
He turned his attention back to Katie. Kneeling between her legs to force them apart, he ran his hand between the mounds of her bottom. Finding her anus, he pushed his finger in. Katie cried out in pain. He pushed harder, but she violently contracted her muscles so that, hard as he pushed, he could only get his finger in a little way. Grinning, he bent over Katie's back and whispered something into her ear.
"Oh no, no...please, you wouldn't!" she moaned, turning her head around frantically, trying to catch sight of Cindy.
"Oh Cindy...." But she could say no more. She burst into tears, her sobbings shaking her whole slender body.
"She's too tight," Pete said. "Get the stuff, Tony."
Tony had been watching, an amused smile on his face. He went to a cabinet and returned with a jar of Vaseline. Pete took the jar from Tony. Kneeling between Katie's opened legs, he looked over at Cindy.
"You, come here!"
Cindy walked over. She could not take her eyes off the prostrate body of her young cousin, and the tears were now flooding her own eyes as she imagined what was about to happen.
"Here, you know what to do," Pete said as he handed her the jar of Vaseline.
She took it without once looking at him. Opening the jar and dipping her fingers into the greasy substance, she smeared it gently around Katie's tightly contracted anus. She inserted one finger, then two, hoping to make it easier for Katie by widening her a bit. But Pete was growing impatient, and he tore her hand away and made ready to plunge into tne young girl's bottom.
"Spread her!" he commanded.
And Cindy obeyed. With her own hands she spread her young cousin's small, soft mounds. She watched as Pete's rigid sex worked its way up the now slippery channel. As soon as Katie felt him enter her, she gasped and tried frantically to escape. She wriggled and squirmed, but her frantic movements only served to push him in deeper. He slid in easily now, all the way; Katie's pretty face was twisted and contorted with unbearable pain and her head suddenly slumped to the floor, as if she had momentarily passed out. He climaxed almost at once, grunting and pushing hard against the springy flesh of her bottom. Getting up from her limp body, he grinned at Tony.
"You want to try her?" he asked.
"Later," replied Tony, looking at Cindy.
Cindy was kneeling beside Katie, stroking her long blonde hair in an attempt to comfort her. But she could do nothing to stop Katie's pitiful sobbings.
"Come here, beautiful," Tony said, looking down at Cindy.
She rose with a last look at Katie who was now gently rubbing the two holes that had just been entered, trying to soothe the pain now stabbing at her front and back.
As Cindy stood up and waited for the two men to tell her what to do, she was determined not to give them any more pleasure than she could help. She would do whatever they wanted. . . because she had no choice. But she would do it mechanically, only because she had to. Let them take what they wanted, let them do whatever their twisted minds desired...she would show no feeling, she would be just an instrument. It was the only way she had left to fight them.
"She's not wearing any panties," Tony said, grinning at Pete.
Pete reached down, grabbed the ends of her short skirt and raised it high up over her hips.
She gasped in spite of herself as he bared her full, sensuous loins. But she caught herself and showed no expression as he ran his fingers through the silken triangle of hair between her legs.
"Hey, she doesn't like it, Tony," said Pete humorously.
"Yeah, I know something she'll like," answered Tony as he gazed into her expressionless face.
"Lie down on the bed, beautiful," he said, "but keep your clothes on...I like it that way. You're going to like this baby...you're really going to like this...."
His words sent a shiver of fear through Cindy; she looked into his crazily gleaming eyes, trying to read his thoughts. But what could he do? What could he do? And why was she afraid ?
CHAPTER NINE
Emily got up and walked over to a filing cabinet near the desk. "Let's see, the number is in here someplace," she said as she bent over one of the drawers.
As Paul watched, he knew that she was bending over a little more than she had to, to give him a better view of her full, lush hips straining against the tight white nurse's uniform.
"Yes, here it is."
The uniform was still midway up her generous thighs as she walked back, and she did not bother to pull it down as she stood next to Paul to dial the number. He ran his hand lightly over the back of her knee and then up the inside of her creamy white thigh until he felt her panties; she bent over him and put her arms around her neck.
"I like you, Paul," she murmured into his ear. "I liked you right from the first moment you walked in the door."
"Yes, I liked you too...even your coolness." He laughed softly.
"I know. Sometimes I'm like that. But I don't feel that way now...cool, I mean."
"Mmmmmm, I love the smell of your hair," Paul said as she put her face close to his.
Paul unbuttoned the front of her uniform all the way to her waist; she was not wearing a bra. She moaned softly into his ear and she shivered.
"Wait a minute," she said, "I want to make sure the place is locked up."
She walked over to the door and pushed the lock; she stood for a minute, her back turned to him, her hand resting on the lock. Then, with a shake of her red hair, she turned and walked back to where he was sitting. The front of her uniform, still open to the waist, allowed her full, pink-tipped breasts to swing freely as she walked. The sight of her ample breasts swinging and jiggling sent the blood rushing to Paul's head.
"Come here," he said huskily.
He slipped the uniform from her creamy white shoulders, pushing it down to her waist. Now her breasts were free and he took one in each hand and squeezed, feeling her lovely white mounds harden under his hand. She unbuttoned his shirt and buried her face in the thick black hairs on his chest; he felt her tongue searching out his small male nipples, giving each one a wet, biting kiss. She ran her hand down his back and over his buttocks. Sighing, her breath coming in short heavy pantings, she reached around for the front of his pants and with her long, delicate, slim fingers she traced the outline of his pulsing sex. Quickly and with trembling fingers she undid his buckle and tugged the pants over his hips. She stopped only to admire his upraised sex and give it a playful squeeze, then undid the remaining buttons of her own uniform; it slipped to the floor. She wore no panties and Paul could feel his own breath coming faster as he ran his fingers through the tuft of flaming red hair between her generous thighs. She moaned and rubbed her breasts against his naked chest.
"Wait a minute, darling," she whispered in his ear.
Emily knelt in front of him. She pressed his throbbing sex against her cheek, then took him into her mouth...slowly...in and out, and he groaned with pleasure as he moved back and forth inside her warm smooth wet mouth. Deftly, with both hands, she caressed the insides of his thighs, sending shivers through his body. He was close now, he could feel it coil and uncoil, could feel it gathering inside his body, in his balls, coiling and uncoiling, ready to shoot into her open willing mouth.
And Emily too was groaning, wanting him to give it to her this way, wanting his thick hot sperm in her mouth and down her throat. Cupping his balls in her hand, she squeezed and tugged them gently. She wanted to take his balls into her mouth and suck on them. But now he was pushing into her mouth faster and faster...and deeper, causing her to gag as the hot tip of his penis reached all the way to the back to her throat. Her hand went to the root of his sex, and she pulled, sliding her fingers up and down, pulling, stroking, as if coaxing the liquid from deep within his body. Doubly caressed, by her hand and by her mouth, he came in long hot spurts, his penis deep in her mouth. Small animal-like sounds came from her as she greedily swallowed his semen, pulling the last drop from the tip of his cock with a gentle suction of her moist mouth.
Emily fell backwards on the floor, her eyes closed, her full white thighs open to reveal her own swollen sex...on fire it seemed, surrounded as it was by the leaping red curls of her pubic hair. Paul knelt between her legs and cupped her wet sex with his hand; he rubbed her large swollen clitoris and she gasped and raised her hips; she moaned and emitted little sounds of pleasure between half parted lips; she arched her back and ran her lingers through her hair in a frenzy of delight.
While still caressing her pink sex, he inserted a finger, gently, into her belly, feeling her tighten around it, then relax. Deeper he probed, with two fingers now, feeling her relax and widen. With three fingers inside her slippery open hole, the juices poured from her and, with a long gasping moan, she came, the long sweet orgasm shaking her lovely body.
"Oh, now, darling...now!" she gasped. "Oh, yes, put it in...all the way...I don't care if it hurts."
Her words excited him and quickly he slipped between her moist thighs, pushing into her.
"Oh, I'm so big now, I'm so open," she sighed as his big penis slipped deep within her.
"Mmmmmm...oh...yes, yes, push it in all the way...I want to feel it come up my throat," she cried. "Oh God, that feels good."
She raised her legs, bringing them back against her heaving chest; she wanted every inch of him inside her. When she felt him in all the way, she began a slow rocking motion with her hips; the warm liquid now streamed down her legs, and their flesh, as it met, made small smacking sounds. Suddenly she pulled away from him; she turned around and got down on all fours.
"Oh, do it this way," she moaned, raising her white ass high in the air. "Oh, oh, oh, God, I can't stand it!" she gasped as she felt his swollen, hot prick slip between her thighs, into her warm wet belly.
"Hold it like that, darling," she murmured.
Emily backed up against him, rubbing her open cunt against his front. She pulled back a little way, but shuddered as she felt him slipping out. Her sleek flanks fluttering, quivering, she reached back and sighed as her fingers closed around his hard slippery shaft. She tugged gently on his sex, so stiff and hot and wet with her own juices. She felt him tense and then push into her; he moved faster and his powerful hands found her pendulous breasts, rubbing and squeezing them with a milking action that nearly drove her out of her mind with delight. They came together, in a frenzy, no longer having any control over the movement of their bodies.
Exhausted, breathing heavily, they stayed in the same position, resting. Paul laid his chest on her fleshy back and then slowly and delicately caressed her breasts. Her nipples were softer now.
"Oh, darling," Emily whispered, but she had to wait to catch her breath before continuing: "Oh, it was never like that before...that was so fine. Was it good for you too?"
"Yes, it was."
Yes, it was good, he thought to himself. Lying here, with the smell of her warm flesh in his nostrils, he had been lost in a daydream...of a day, warm and sunny, long ago, a lovely day when something nice had happened; but he couldn't remember just what it was. Now, coming back to the present, he felt as if a part of himself that had been long buried had been revealed to him once again; he felt something that he hadn't felt in many years. But now it was gone and he felt cheated; the disappointment was clearly visible on his face.
"What's the matter, darling?"
"Nothing." He wanted desperately to catch that feeling again; it was as if his whole existence, his whole being had stopped and was waiting, breathless, for the memory and the feeling to return. But he couldn't catch it, only glimpses, now meaningless...a silver tree, the sun, but nothing more. Why had it happened ?
She gave him a quick glance, then looked away as if she was embarrassed. She reached between his legs to fondle his sex, then bent over to kiss him there, running her tongue along the shaft that had brought her such pleasure.
Paul groaned and moved his body away from her caress. The elusive memory was still flitting in the dark corners of his mind, tantalizingly close and yet, he knew, lost.
"You aren't going, are you?" she asked. Her voice had an edge of panic.
"Soon," he answered quietly.
His mind was flooded with images, past and present: the car, the trip, Cindy, a sunlit day many years ago, Emily. But it wouldn't come together; it didn't make any sense. He put his hand on Emily's warm thigh. He wanted this woman, this woman he liked, to ease his mind. But he didn't know how to ask.
"Don't go yet, Paul," she pleaded. She sat up and held his head in her lap. Her voice shook as she continued. "You know, I've been thinking...the doctor won't be back for a few days...."
"A few days? I thought you said he'd be here tomorrow." Paul looked up into her face, but Emily would not meet his gaze.
"Well, I told you that...because I wanted you to come back; I wanted to see you again." He could see that she was trying hard not to cry.
"Don't worry, darling, there's no problem about the pills," she said quickly. "I'll get them for you before you leave. In fact, I'll get them right now; it won't take a minute."
"No, don't go. I don't care about the pills."
She brushed the hair away from his forehead and smiled down at him.
"Well," she continued brightly, "like I was saying, the doctor won't be back for awhile...oh darling, we could have the place to ourselves. I've got the keys to the house. And...well...you could rest here for a couple of days...."she hesitated-"you are running away from something, aren't you Paul?...but I don't care, whatever it is, I just want you to stay for a few days. And then...well, when you're ready to leave, you can leave."
"Running away?" he mused. "Yes, I'm running."
"It's another woman, isn't it, Paul?" Emily tried hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Paul suddenly felt sorry for her.
"Yes."
"And you can't stay, even for a day."
"No."
"Well, it was worth a try." She sighed. "I'll fix you something to eat...and I'll get the pills."
Paul wanted somehow to comfort her; but, he thought, it probably would make her feel worse.
"Why don't you take a shower, Paul?" She was standing by the door, her red hair framing the pale skin of her face; it made her green eyes dark as emeralds. "Here," she said, tossing him the keys, "the shower is right through there." She indicated a door on his right. "I'll call you when I have the food ready."
Emily blew him a kiss, then disappeared through the door. The sight of her full, milk-white bottom sent a shiver through his body. He wanted to make love to her again and he knew that she would want it too...even though he was going to leave.
Paul unlocked the door leading from the office into the doctor's private house. Finding the shower, he hurriedly removed his clothes and got in, turning the water on full force. It felt good, the tiny jets of water stinging his skin.
A few minutes later and Emily peeked around the curtain.
"Everything will be ready in a minute," she said cheerfully. "Mind if I join you?" she asked.
Paul slid the curtain aside and helped her in. "Here, give me the soap and I'll wash you," she said.
Paul handed her the soap, then turned around. She soaped his back and shoulders, then reached around to his chest. She pressed herself tightly against him, working her fingers down his body until she reached the stiff black hair around his prick.
"I love the feel of you here." She sighed as she slowly soaped his balls and his cock. With a deft motion, she ran her slippery hand between his muscular buttocks. "That feels good, doesn't it darling?" she murmured. "This too...." She gently inserted her finger partway into his anus, while, with her other hand, she squeezed and pulled on his prick.
"Here," she said as she handed him the soap and moved around in front of him. She turned the water pressure down, then stiffened a little as she felt his hand slip between her thighs. But gradually, as her clenched buttocks relaxed, she moaned softly.
"Darling," she finally said, turning around and pressing close against him, "take me to bed."
They dried each other leisurely, exchanging only a few words. They both knew that Paul would leave, but for the moment it didn't matter. Finally he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
As they lay side by side on the bed, Paul felt a moment of indecision. Perhaps he would stay here with Emily. He liked her; he liked her more, maybe, than he had ever liked another woman. It was a comfortable feeling and making love with her was good...but somehow Cindy was still there. Funny, he thought to himself, he wasn't sure he even liked Cindy, not the way he liked Emily, anyway. With Cindy he always felt a little uncomfortable and so did she, he thought; it was as if there was an undeclared war between them, as if they were always angry with each other but afraid to express it. He felt almost like laughing, if only to relieve the tension inside his head; he still couldn't think about Cindy without also wanting her. He did want her, even now, with Emily's hand gently squeezing his prick. But he could put Cindy out of his mind, at least for now.
"Fuck me, Paul," Emily whispered.
She turned over onto her stomach and raised her bottom high into the air. Paul moved around and knelt behind her opened thighs; he spread her sex and put just the tip of his prick into her; but as he was about to slide further into her, she pulled away and looked back at him.
"Paul, do it the other way." She spread her thighs wide, revealing her tiny, clenched anus.
He pulled her cheeks apart and slowly worked the tip of his prick into her virgin slit. Emily stifled a cry of pain as she felt him enter her bottom, but she pushed back hard, impaling herself on his thick rod of flesh. When the pain became too much, her head flopped down on the bed.
Paul grabbed her by the hips and worked his way deeper and deeper into her tight channel, feeling her tighten and relax, tighten and relax, until finally he was in her all the way. Then, slowly, he drew back, slipping out of her tight warm flesh. She gasped as she felt him leave her and she pushed back. He worked faster now, in and out, feeling her loosen with each stroke. Emily moaned softly and her breath came in short gasps. Paul could feel it coming, he could feel it building inside his loins, that sweet pressure...and then with a gasp he exploded inside her, shooting his hot sperm deep into her vitals.
They lay quietly, listening to each other breathing. Emily stroked Paul's hair.
"I know you have to go, darling, but stay for just a little while," she whispered.
"Yes, I will." He kissed her.
CHAPTER TEN
Cindy walked over to the cot and lay down. She turned her face to the wall and waited. She could still hear Katie sobbing, but more quietly now; and she could hear the two men talking softly.
She closed her eyes. She wanted desperately to think about something else...anything...anything to drive the hard knot of fear out of her body. She wanted to be calm and cool and not let them get to her. She tried thinking about Paul and about all the happy times they had had together...the afternoons in the sun...and the nights in bed; she tried very hard to picture his face, but the image kept slipping out of her mind. She was afraid...and her skin felt icy cold...she was cold, cold, cold and shivering.
She felt a pair of rough hands pull her around so that her bottom was resting almost on the edge of the cot. The same hands pulled her skirt up around her waist and spread her legs. She took a deep breath and put her arm over her eyes. She did not move as the man, either Pete or Tony, it didn't matter which, rubbed her open sex. She was dry down there -she wanted to be, even though it would hurt -but let them do what they wanted, even if it hurt.
"Open your eyes, baby, I got a surprise for you," Tony said in a low voice.
She heard him but didn't answer. She just lay as before, determined not to give them any more pleasure than she had to. But...there was something in Tony's voice that sent a little stab of fear through her body. What could he do? Kill her? No, she was pretty sure he wouldn't do that; he knew that Al would probably kill him if he did that...and besides, he wanted to have his fun. But there was something about his voice, something that she knew was going to make her open her eyes and look...some extra craziness that he was directing just at her. She realized something then that she had been trying to hide from herself ever since she had walked into the apartment to find the three men waiting for her: it was Tony who she was really afraid of...yes, that one and his crazy eyes.
"Why not open your eyes, sugar? I think you'll want to see."
Cindy opened her eyes, although she didn't want to, although she was afraid of what she would see. The two men were there, Pete standing back, Tony very close. So it had been his hands she had felt! Then she saw the knife gleaming in his hand and that smile, that awful crooked smile on his face! Her heart stopped as she looked at him. Maybe she had been wrong, maybe he was going to kill them; but this thought left her numb...if it was going to happen, then it was going to happen.
But no, that wasn't it; she was sure of it somehow. Suddenly she looked away from Tony; she looked down at the floor. The dog! The huge black dog that Tony had talked to as if it had been his child. He was going to let the dog have her! She felt a wave of nausea sweep through her body. She looked back up, into his eyes.
"That's right, honey," Tony murmured, twirling the knife in his hands, "you don't like me, so...." His voice trailed off; he grinned at her.
"No!" she answered in a strong voice; but it didn't reflect how she was feeling inside.
She was panic-stricken. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she wasn't going to let him do that to her. No, he would have to kill her first.
"There's nothing you can do about it, honey. It'll be easier if you just lie back and enjoy it. Besides, I bet it'll feel good. It gets bigger you know, once he gets it inside."
Cindy looked at Tony and then at the dog...its huge black head was only inches away from her opened sex. She wanted desperately to close her legs, to protect herself; but her thighs felt as though they were made of lead; they felt numb, as if they did not belong to her and she could not close them. Summoning all her strength, she managed to wriggle back onto the cot until her back was pushed up against the rough wooden boards of the wall. She looked at Tony defiantly, hatefully. She wanted to kill him.
"O.K., baby, if you want to be difficult about it...Hey, Petey, bring the other one over here."
Pete grinned and walked over to where Katie was lying on the floor. She had not moved, although her eyes were open and she had been watching what was happening on the bed. Pete lifted her up until she stood on shaking legs. He guided her roughly over to the bed.
Cindy looked at her face; her eyes were large with fear. Then she saw the young girl's delicate sex, bruised now and oozing with Pete's still warm sperm; it was trickling down her slender thighs to mix with her own blood.
"Now look, sugar," Tony said to Cindy, "either you cooperate or else I go to work on her."
He grabbed the trembling Katie and twisted her arm behind her back.
"Want me to cut off one of these pretty boobies?"
Tony touched one of Katie's pert girlish breasts; he fondled it, causing her tender nipple to harden. With his eyes still on Cindy, he grabbed the tender mound of flesh hard, twisting her nipple between his fingers. Katie cried out in pain and the tears welled up in her large innocent eyes. She looked imploringly at Tony. He laughed.
"That's nothing," he chuckled.
His fingers still around her nipple, he pulled it hard and placed his razor-sharp knife against it as if about to cut it off. Katie jumped with fear and the movement of her body caused the knife to cut in a little ways. A thin trickle of blood ran down her breast. He glanced at Cindy but she had not moved, and only her hate-filled eyes told him how she felt. He turned his attention back to Katie.
"Or how about down here?" he said in a low soft voice.
The blade of his knife traveled slowly down Katie's quivering stomach, down to her middle; he held the blade there, across the fluffy down that still covered her young sex.
"How about down here?"
He held the blade there and watched Cindy; his breath was coming heavier now and the gleam in his eyes was only barely discernible through half-closed lids.
"Yes, yes, let her go," Cindy replied, her voice filled with resignation and hatred. "I'll do what you want...anything...."
She stared at the huge black dog.
"I'll do it, only leave her alone...let her go!" She wondered whether he had been bluffing. Would he really have done it? She didn't know, but it didn't matter, she couldn't take the chance; he was crazy enough...just crazy enough.
"That's better, that's better," Tony answered, his face again twisted into a crooked grin.
"Watch her, Petey," he said as he released Katie. "Now come on sugar." He beckoned to Cindy.
She moved slowly, heavy-limbed. It seemed like a long, long way to the edge of the bed. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, in a dream, and that any second she would wake up to find Paul's warm body next to her in the bed. Yes, she would wake up now and she would not have to do this horrible thing. But Tony's voice, although it too seemed far away, brought her back to reality. She was on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling on the floor. Tony was standing over her, and the dog...the dog seemed to be watching her intently, as if it knew, as if it really wanted her. Her legs began to tremble and nothing she could do seemed to stop them from shaking. She heard her own voice-"no, no, no"-but even that seemed far away; she did not resist as Tony pulled her skirt up over her full hips "oh, no, no" but it wasn't real, her voice; only the pressure of his hands on her legs was real. He lifted her legs up onto the bed and spread them. Oh God, no, no . . .
"Hey! The other one's gone!"
It was Pete's voice yelling as he noticed Katie's absence; she had slipped out only moments before as the two men had been occupied with Cindy.
"You mother-fucker, I told you to watch her!"
Without another word, Tony pulled the dog away from Cindy, then quickly turned his attention back to Pete.
"You stupid clown! You know what Al will do if he comes back and she's gone? He'll kill us." There was real fear in Tony's voice.
"Jesus, Tony, I couldn't help it. She was here a minute ago."
"O.K., relax, we'll find her," Tony said calmly. "Blackie here will find her, won't you boy?"
He patted the dog on the head. "O.K., let's go, we take her too," he said, indicating Cindy.
"What? Are you out of your mind? We don't have time. Anyhow, she's not going to go anywhere like that."
"Yeah?" said Tony sarcastically. "Well, we're going to make sure of this one. So cool down...I told you, we won't have no trouble, with Blackie along."
He bent down and began to untie Cindy; with Pete's help she was free in a minute. She rubbed her wrists and ankles; but now Tony was in a hurry to begin the search. He pulled her roughly to her feet and pushed her out the door. Pete and the dog followed close behind.
"I hope you never find her. I hope she makes it to the highway and back to the city," Cindy said, looking at Tony with hate in her eyes.
Tony slapped her hard; she fell backwards onto the soft pine needles.
"And I hope she brings the cops back."
"She won't, baby; she'll never make it to the road," he answered coldly. "So get on your feet and get moving. Any funny business and I put this knife into you so fast that you won't know what happened. And Al won't do nothing...remember, he said if you made any trouble you'd get hurt. So get up!"
Cindy got to her feet without another word. She stared into the forest and waited. The two men knelt in front of the dog, holding under its nose the pair of panties that Katie had been wearing. Blackie sniffed the panties, then raced around trying to get her scent.
"Come on boy, come on!" Tony encouraged the dog. "Yeah, yeah, now he's got it," he said excitedly as Blackie suddenly tore off into the forest barking.
The two men raced after the dog. Tony had an iron grip on Cindy's arm and was dragging her along. The three of them crashed through the heavy underbrush; Cindy winced as the thorns and sharp branches tore at her skin.
"Hey, wait," Pete panted, "we'll never keep up with that fool dog. Listen to him, he must be half a mile away by now. You gotta put him on a leash or something Tony."
All three of them were breathing hard after their short but furious run. They stood still and listened to the barking; it was getting fainter and fainter. Tony's face was filled with dark frustration as he realized that Pete was right; they would have to get Blackie and put a leash on him. He kicked the dirt in front of him and then, after a moment's hesitation, whistled for Blackie.
The barking stopped suddenly and they all listened. But the only sounds were those of the forest. Cindy shivered as the cool wind slipped around her scantily clad body, and she hugged herself in an effort to keep warm. But still there was no sign of the dog, until suddenly he broke through the brush in front of them.
"Here Blackie, here boy," Tony called as the dog's huge black form emerged from the darkness.
"Go back and get some rope, Pete; I'll watch the broad." Tony lit a cigarette and looked into the forest. "She won't get far," he said under his breath.
Cindy shivered, from the cold and from being left alone with Tony.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Paul took his hands off the steering wheel to rub his eyes; he was tired after ten hours of steady driving and the pills seemed to be wearing off. Maybe it's time for a short break, he thought to himself...take another couple of Benzedrines and relax for a few minutes.
He didn't really want to stop; he was afraid to start thinking about what he was doing. It had been very hard leaving Emily; several times he had almost stopped and gone back. Back to Emily? How could he do that when the thought of Cindy was still tearing him apart? It didn't seem to matter how many miles he put between them...he still wanted her.
He relaxed in the seat and listened to the big engine throbbing beneath him. He tried not to think of anything...just drive...just go. But he was too tired. It was getting hard to focus on the highway. He would have to stop.
The long straight road gleamed beneath the headlights of the car as Paul searched ahead for a place to stop. He wasn't too particular. He laughed as he remembered how Cindy would want to stop at every roadside diner...just to see what it was like.
He passed a couple of questionable places, then spotted a brightly lit truck stop.
He stopped, parked the car and went inside. The bright lights made him squint and he stood still for a moment until his eyes got used to the glare. The booths were all full, so he took a seat at the counter, next to a big, leather-jacketed truck driver.
"Just coffee," he said to the blonde waitress.
He wasn't really hungry; the pills took away his appetite. He took another couple of pills and downed them with a glass of water.
"Nice and warm tonight, huh?" said the man next to him.
"Yeah, sure is."
He hoped the man wouldn't pursue the conversation; he didn't feel like talking just now. To discourage him, Paul swung around on the stool and glanced idly around the diner. He looked at the crowd-the usual collection of truckers and tourists. But as he looked at the last booth, his attention rose...the girl sitting there. Her face was hidden but it was her hair! Long silky brown hair, like Cindy's.
As he watched the girl, her hair gleaming under the lights, Paul got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it couldn't be Cindy, but still he couldn't take his eyes off this girl. He remembered the time Cindy had played a practical joke on him; he had gotten mad and slapped her. He was sorry for it almost right away, but he hadn't apologized and she had gone home crying. He didn't see her for almost a week...and he had missed her.
And he missed her now; he half wished he was back in the city...in bed with her. Maybe things were different now. He tried to think if anything had really changed; but no, nothing had changed; all the old feelings were still there, both good and bad. He wanted her and he didn't want her and it still didn't make any sense. Maybe if he called her...He toyed with the idea for a moment as he watched the girl in the booth. But no, something was telling him that it wouldn't be a good idea; it wasn't time yet.
"Nice, huh?" the man next to him said. "Like to pick them up, but the company would fire me for sure. Not worth it, not even for a juicy little piece like that. Nice though, and so is her friend. You shoulda seen the dresses they're wearing; you can see almost up to their twats. Cute little bitches and I bet they got hot pants too...a lotta these young girls do; used to pick them up before the company put its foot down...."
Paul stared down at his cup of coffee. He wished the trucker would stop talking; it was only making him miss Cindy all the more. So, before he had a chance to go on, Paul engaged him in a desultory conversation about the trucking business.
While they talked Paul had another cup of coffee. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two girls get up to pay their bill. He wanted a last look at the girl with the long hair; she was young and very pretty. Both she and her friend were wearing sandals and beads. So they're hippies, he thought to himself.
Time to go, he decided. He said good-bye to the trucker and paid his bill. But before he went back outside, he went into the washroom to splash some cold water on his face. Drying his face and hands, he went back outside.
There standing by his car were the two girls. He took a deep breath and walked towards them. They didn't see him coming, and he was almost on top of them before the girl with the brown hair turned around quickly, a startled look on her face.
"Oh, is this your car?" she asked sweetly. "I hope you don't mind, we were just looking at it; it's a groovy car."
"Yeah, its mine, but I'm afraid I don't have time...." he began; but she didn't let him finish.
"My name is Karen; this is Molly," she said, turning to her companion, a full-bodied blonde.
They want a ride, he thought to himself. He wished it was some other time; they were both little dolls, and they had that look about them, that look that says: anything goes if we like you. But he just wasn't in the mood, not now, not with everything pressing down on his mind. He was about to tell them this, when Karen yawned, stretching her arms over her head, raising her high pointed breasts.
"Oh man, am I tired; we've been traveling a long ways...and...."
"O.K., hop in," he said.
As he walked around the car to get in, he suddenly wished he hadn't said it. But it would be nice to have some company, somebody to talk to, so maybe it would work out. As he slid into the low leather seat, he saw that one of the girls, Molly, was going to get in the back.
"Hey, we can all fit in front," he said.
"Groovy!" she answered. "I'd rather sit in front, anyway."
They settled themselves and Paul pulled out of the parking lot; his hand brushed against Karen's bare thigh as he shifted gears. He left his hand there, against her leg...more from curiosity than anything else. But she didn't move her leg.
As they got back on the highway, the two girls exchanged glances, then Karen said to Paul:
"You want some grass, man? We have lots, and it's kind of nice when you're driving."
"Yeah, great, I'd love some," he replied. "My name is Paul."
Out of the corner of his eye he watched Molly roll a cigarette; she lit it and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in as long as she could. Already he could smell the sweet aroma of the marihuana. Karen took a deep drag, then passed the joint to Paul. Both girls leaned back in the comfortable leather seats. Paul inhaled and almost immediately felt the relaxing effects of the pot. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought.
"You two are hippies, huh?" He was feeling better and better.
"Yeah sure, I guess so," Molly answered in a dreamy voice. "You can call us anything you want...names don't matter."
"Yeah, right," said Karen. "What do people have to get all hung up on names for? It's a real drag. I mean I don't care what your name is, not really." She turned to look at Paul. "Let's see," she continued in mock seriousness, "we'll call you Mr. Flower. How's that?"
"Mr. Flower, huh? Yeah, that sounds pretty good. And I'll call you Miss Petal," he said to Karen. "And your friend there, she can be Miss Blossom."
"That's great," said Karen, taking another long drag on the joint before passing it once again to Paul.
"So, Miss Petal, where are you going?" he asked.
He was flying high now. All his cares and troubles seemed to disappear with the pot. He even slowed down. Ah yes, he thought to himself, this is better; it had been a long time since he had been this high; he could feel the familiar surge of energy through his body, especially in his legs and back. He knew he still had all his old problems...with Cindy...but now, right now, he was feeling too good to let it depress him. He put his hand on Karen's knee and she put her hand on top of his. Her skin felt so alive, as if he could feel her whole body through her knee. It was a nice feeling.
"Where am I going, Mr. Flower?" she said, her head resting far back on the seat, her eyes looking up, as if she was trying to see through the roof of the car, to the stars. "Where are we going, Miss Blossom?" She turned to Molly.
"I don't know, I forgot. Oh yes, now I remember, we aren't going anywhere, that's where we're going."
Paul moved his hand slowly up Karen's thigh...slowly, because he didn't want to hurry, because it felt too good to hurry. Her skin felt so smooth, almost slippery, but he could also feel all the tiny bumps, all the imperfections and even they felt good. He pressed his fingers gently into the yielding flesh of her inner thigh, and he could feel her pulse, the steady throb of life as it passed through her body.
But then something was wrong; something far back in his mind, some unpleasant thought or feeling was trying to break through. He wanted to say something; maybe the sound of his own voice would chase it away.
"Say, does somebody want to rub the back of my neck? It feels stiff as a board after so much driving."
"Sure, I'd love to," Karen answered cheerily.
She climbed over the seat and Paul caught a glimpse of her flashing white bottom as, in climbing, her short skirt slipped up over her hips. Suddenly he realized that he hadn't wanted her to rub his neck; Molly maybe, but not Karen; it had felt too good, having his hand on her leg. But...it didn't really matter, she would be back if he wanted her. Anyway, he soon forgot his disappointment as her supple fingers worked on his neck, driving away the stiffness in his muscles.
"Ah yes, that's great," he said, arching his neck to meet her hand. "Any time you need a job, Miss Petal, you can come and stay with me and be my neck rubber."
"Nope, that sounds like a drag; I don't want to do it if it's a job," Karen answered as she tumbled gracefully back into the front seat. "Nooooo, jobs are a drag, drag, drag." Both girls laughed and Paul joined them.
He put his hand again on her thigh; she parted her legs and he ran his fingers up her smooth skin until he felt the hair between her legs. But before he could continue, she leaned over on the seat and unzipped his fly; she put her warm hand around his cock and gently squeezed. Reaching further into his pants, she found his balls and cupped them. She bent over and ran her warm tongue the length of his penis, and then her warm, wet, smooth mouth closed around him and slowly...so slowly and gently...she sucked, making low pleasant sounds in the back of her throat. He came almost at once, the hot liquid spurting deep into her throat; he didn't want to hold it, even though it felt so good he wished it would go on forever. Even after he had come, she didn't stop her gentle suction...she wanted every drop of him, and she licked the few remaining drops from the tip of his prick. He looked over at Molly; she had raised Karen's skirt and was now dreamily stroking her soft white ass, now and then inserting a finger into her belly.
"Mmmmmmm, it's nice with grass, isn't it?" Karen said as she straightened up. "Let's stop for a minute and have another joint."
Paul pulled the car over to the side of the road; Karen lit the joint and they sat in silence and smoked. But there was still something pressing on his mind; and now the pot didn't help chase it away. Yes, now he knew it was Cindy; he wanted to call her; he didn't know why, but he felt he had to. And right away. As soon as they had finished, he gunned the car back to life and pulled out onto the highway, going faster than he had before. He was sure that after he called her and talked to her he would feel much better.
"Hey, what's the matter?" asked Molly. "Why are you in so much of a hurry? Want another joint?"
"No, not yet. I've got to make a phone call. Won't take a minute."
"O.K., " Molly answered. "Everybody's got to call somebody sometime, I guess. Hey, there's a phone."
Paul saw it too and he raced ahead, pushing his foot down on the accelerator. He skidded to a stop in front of the gas station, got out of the car and ran over to the phone booth.
As he dialed Cindy's number he felt the sweat break out on his forehead and on the palms of his hands. The number was ringing now...two, three, four...."Come on Cindy," he muttered under his breath...seven, eight, but still no answer. He let the phone ring for almost a full minute before placing it on the hook. He stood in the booth and looked absentmindedly out the window; then, pulling himself together, he stepped out into the warm night air.
Where could she be at this hour? Anyway, somebody should have been there...Linda, or Katie, unless she had already gone home. Yes, that was it, they had probably all gone down to the bus station to see Katie off; wasn't she going to leave today? But no, it was too late for that...so they must be someplace else. A little knot of apprehension began to form in the pit of his stomach. Cindy was all right, he was sure of it...but then where was she?
Maybe it was the pot that was making him worry...and worry for nothing, because there was nothing he could do...couldn't go back, not yet. Well, he could call later. Until then, he was determined not to let it eat away inside him.
"Hey, Mr. Flower, don't look so glum," Karen said in a cheerful voice.
She leaned over and kissed him, a long sweet kiss that ended with her tongue inside his mouth.
"Don't be glum, it's such a nice night," she said. "You can be sad some other time, sometime when it's not so nice, when it's raining or something." She passed him another joint.
He took a deep drag and then another. Yes, she was right, he thought, as the pot renewed its effect. He felt his sex rising as he remembered her warm mouth and how it had felt around his prick. Yeah, why be glum? His only wish was that she didn't remind him so much of Cindy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They traveled along in silence for awhile; the only sound was the wind as it whistled around the speeding car. Molly had her nose pressed against the window, wistfully looking out into the fields on either side of the highway.
"It's such a groovy night," she sighed. "Why don't we take a walk?"
It sounded like a good idea. He stopped by the side of the road, by a field of tall grass that waved gently in the warm breeze. They got out and sat down, their backs up against the car, and passed around another joint.
Suddenly Karen jumped to her feet, laughing.
"Hey, who needs these?" she asked, indicating the clothes they were wearing. "On a beautiful, groovy night like this, who needs these?"
While they watched, she removed her blouse, revealing small, firm breasts; she threw the blouse into the back seat of the car and then stepped out of her short skirt. She wasn't wearing any panties, and in the moonlight Paul could see that she had a perfect body. She turned around slowly, showing herself to them. Then she walked over to Molly and helped her out of her dress. Paul grinned as Molly's dress slid up over her plump, inviting thighs and full breasts.
"Now, it's your turn, Mr. Flower," Karen said mischievously as she walked slowly towards him.
"Oh no you don't; I'll keep my clothes on if you don't mind," he grinned.
He watched her as she walked towards him, his eyes flickering over her young body...over her breasts that promised to be so firm...then down to the inviting triangle of hair between her shapely legs.
But as his attention was focused on Karen, Molly had managed to sneak up behind him. Suddenly they rushed him, Karen from the front and Molly from behind; together they managed to wrestle him to the soft ground. Both of the young girls were giggling uncontrollably as they tried to undress him. Soon, despite his half-hearted struggles, Karen had pulled his pants down over his ankles and Molly had his shirt off. They both backed away to look at him, and he stood up to follow them, but, forgetting about the pants around his ankles, he tripped and fell headlong into the tall grass. Molly came over and untied his shoes; she pulled his pants all the way off. But before she had a chance to get up, he pulled her on top of him. She wriggled and squirmed, her full, heavy breasts pushed flat against his chest, but he locked his legs around her bottom, holding her fast. She stopped squirming and lay still, her breath coming in long pants. Suddenly, there was Karen kneeling beside them; she dug her fingers into Paul's ribs and tickled him. Startled, he let go of Molly and she bounced to her feet. Paul got up too, but just then they saw a car coming and the three of them ducked behind Paul's car to avoid being seen. He put an arm around each of them, pulling their warm bodies close to him.
"What a beautiful night," Karen crooned as she broke away from his embrace and danced around in the moonlight. "Come on, let's run in the grass."
She raced ahead, every now and then leaping high into the air, her perfect little buttocks clenched tight. Paul wanted her; he raced after her, the tall, sweet-smelling grass brushing against his naked legs. The pot was really working now and, as he darted after the naked young girl, he felt like an animal, a wild animal in rut; his prick felt like it was on fire and he had only one thought...to catch that lithe young girl and take her right in the grass.
He was catching her now, slowly; she was a fast runner, and anyway, he was almost as fascinated in watching her long-legged leaps through the grass as he was in catching her. His breath was now coming in tremendously long gasps and he could feel his heart pounding faster and faster.
Suddenly she stopped, standing with legs parted and hands reaching far above her head. Paul slowed his pace until he was walking...drawn towards the girl whose back was toward him, her high rounded ass shining in the moonlight. When he was five yards away he stopped, listening to his own breath as it rushed through his nostrils, feeling the stream of air far down in his throat. He wanted her even more now; he wanted to go on, to touch the soft shining flesh, but he also wanted to stop and watch. The pot was making his head whirl...head, feet, arms, legs, prick...all felt heavy, so pleasantly heavy, heavy and alive with feeling. He swayed on his feet, made a move forward, the summer grass soft and springy under his bare feet; he wanted to lie down in the grass, he wanted to roll around in the sweet smelling green carpet, to bathe and cool his burning body in the fresh green grass. He took another step.
Karen turned her head slowly, her long brown hair sliding over her shoulders, over the front of her, across her high pointed breasts, across taut, pink, full nipples...he thought he could see each individual silken strand of her hair as it swished over her skin. Languidly, she turned her head until she was looking into his eyes. One half of her face was white with the moonlight, the other half in shadows, dark and mysterious. She smiled, then floated...down...down...sinking into the verdant grass. She lay on her back, her stomach rising and falling gently, then turned over slowly extending her arms and legs, and then over again, leaving the grass pressed flat where she had been.
He stood over her, his prick rigid and aching for her sweet flesh. She turned on her side, lifting her leg, then pulled him down beside her. He put his head between her legs and with his fingers he parted the wet lips of her cunt. At the same time he could feel her mouth around his prick as she worked on him with her gentle suction. He ran his tongue along the length of her open cunt and then he found her hole and he pushed his tongue deep inside her. Wetting his fingers, he gently massaged her other hole, then slipped a finger into her behind. He pulled and sucked on the delicate lips of her sex, while at the same time working his finger deeper and deeper into her bottom. She pressed her warm body against him, and, holding his legs open, licked at his balls.
He moved his body around and lay on top of her. She opened her legs wide and brought her knees up against her breasts. On his knees and holding his hands under her bottom, he slid his prick all the way into her.
"Oh, so beautiful...so beautiful...." she murmured.
He stayed like that for a moment, feeling the hot pulsing flesh of her cunt circling his prick. He pulled her supple body up, until she was almost bent double. His prick was in her womb, and her soft sighs were coming faster and faster as he leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips were soft and he could taste his own male smell as he explored the inside of her sweet mouth with his tongue. She swung her legs around his shoulders and he reached back to caress her quivering flanks.
Suddenly he felt Molly's warm fleshy thighs pressing against him from behind. Her hands worked on him, digging gently into his back and his legs and his buttocks. He laid Karen down on the grass and moved slowly in and out of her. The silken lining of her cunt was even wetter now. He reached around to touch and pressed the springy flesh of her gently rising stomach, then further down until he found her pulsing mound of pink flesh; he rubbed and squeezed it gently between his fingers.
Molly too was feeling the excitement; she was kneeling in back of him, her hands darting from his balls to the warm crack between his buttocks; she was panting as she pushed her finger part way into his anus...causing him to groan with pleasure.
Now Karen was sighing and moving her hips in a slow circular motion. Paul lay on top of her, relaxing, sinking into her flesh. Molly had followed them down and her finger worked deeper and deeper into his anus, causing him exquisite pleasure. Karen came in long, slow shuddering waves that seemed to vibrate through his own body. He groaned as the hot stream of his semen spurted from his prick. It seemed he came forever, filling her hole with his steaming liquid until, finally, the waves still whirling in his brain, his body feeling like rubber, as if he did not have to do anything for it to move, he felt his prick rising again, expanding hotly inside her, stretching her tender flesh. Karen, too, was gathering her strength...biting her lips and clenching and unclenching her tiny fists as if she was going crazy with pleasure.
Paul rolled off her, his prick wet and rigid. He pulled Molly down beside him and drew her close; she responded eagerly to his caresses ; she turned over on her side, rubbing her fleshy bottom against his front; she lifted her leg, reached between her legs for his prick and rubbed it up and down in her slippery cunt. Karen was stretched out facing Molly; she took Paul's prick from Molly's hand and guided it into Molly's open belly; he pushed into her and he groaned as she worked the muscles of her cunt, milking him, pulling the liquid from him. Molly was still trying to come and as she felt his prick grow smaller, she turned her head to look at him with disappointment in her eyes. But then Karen's hand slid between Molly's thighs, finding her clitoris; Molly closed her eyes and sighed.
Paul rested for a moment, watching the two young girls, listening to Molly's soft moanings.
"Wait a minute, let's do it this way."
He turned Molly over so that she was lying on her back; then he spread her legs.
"You lie here," he said to Karen, indicating Molly's deliciously parted thighs, "and put your mouth on her cunt."
"Oh yes, do it that way," Molly sighed.
Molly pulled Karen's willing mouth down on her open cunt. Karen was now stretched out on her stomach, her head between Molly's legs, licking up the pearly white juices flowing from her cunt. Paul watched for a moment, then, positioning himself behind Karen, he caressed her tempting buttocks. With the sounds of Molly's sighs in his ears, he spread the mounds of Karen's lovely bottom and slipped the tip of his prick into her other hole. She relaxed enough for him to enter all the way, then responded by doubling the caresses she was giving, with her mouth and her hands, to Molly. Molly gasped, clutching at Karen's head, pushing her mouth hard against her cunt, directing her tongue to her pink clitoris that now itched and burned for Karen's wet mouth. Karen fastened her lips around Molly's clitoris, biting and sucking on it...Molly came, trembling, grabbing wildly at her hair.
Paul, too, was coming, emptying himself into Karen's sweet behind.
The three of them lay stretched out on the soft grass, looking up at the stars and listening to the sounds of the cars and trucks speeding along the highway. Paul lit a cigarette that Molly had brought with her from the car, took a drag and passed it to Karen.
Paul wondered idly about these two girls. How old were they? Fifteen maybe, but it was hard to tell. And where were they going and what would they do when they got there? They were funny girls, he thought. They liked sex; that wasn't funny, a lot of women Paul knew liked sex. But these girls were different...they liked it more somehow...or maybe it was because they didn't demand anything in return the way a lot of women did-always expecting you to be nice to them, to take care of them, to say the right things; and then if you didn't, they got mean and bitchy, told you that you were taking advantage of them, acting as if, all of a sudden, they didn't like the feel of a prick between their legs. But these girls were different, they didn't seem really to care what you thought of them...just as long as you liked one another, that was what mattered to them, just as long as you could enjoy each other. As he gazed at the stars,, he was tempted to ask them both to talk about themselves. But somehow, for a reason he could not really explain, he let his questions slip from his mind. No, he wouldn't ask them anything...it would just spoil it.
Cindy...the name floated around his brain...all of a sudden he knew that he would have to find out if anything was wrong. He would call again, and if he couldn't reach her, he would have to call Alex. Having decided this, he tried to get to his feet, but his body was so relaxed, from the pot and the lovemaking, that at first his muscles did not respond. Finally he forced himself up.
"Come on, we have to get going," he said halfheartedly.
"Oh, why? It's so beautiful here. Why don't we sleep for awhile, and then we can go?" Molly said, looking up at him.
She held her arms out to him. Paul looked at her young body, at her full soft breasts that fell away to either side, and for a second he was tempted to stay, to sleep in her arms.
"No...I have to go."
"We'll stay here tonight," said Karen sleepily. "It's too nice to be cooped up in a car."
"What are you going to do in the morning?" he asked, a little disappointed that they did not want to come with him.
"Tomorrow morning?" Karen yawned. "Well, we'll just have to get a ride with someone else."
"O.K., but you have to come back anyway, to get your things."
They walked slowly back to the car, one of the girls on either side of Paul. Suddenly, halfway back, Molly stopped, and, with a mischievous look in her eyes, she stood in front of him, rubbing her soft breasts against his chest.
"I like you," she murmured.
She reached down and tugged on his prick, bringing it back to life. Then she knelt on the ground in front of him, her full ass raised high in the air.
"Take me both ways."
He plunged straight into her belly; she gasped and wriggled her ass frantically around and around; it felt so good, being in her warm cunt; but he pulled out and, as she held herself open for him, he entered her other hole. Her whole body shook and she jerked against him as she felt his prick inching up, further and further up her narrower channel; her head dropped to the ground and she rested her cheek on the soft grass. They came together, both of them making low, animal sounds.
"You know," Paul said, laughing as he rose to his feet, "if I stayed any longer I won't have the strength to drive ten miles."
It was only half true, however, for, although he felt completely drained, he also felt relaxed. His mind and his reflexes were quick and sharp.
"Would that be so bad, not being able to drive ten miles?" Karen teased him.
"Maybe you're right," he answered. "But...I still have to go."
Paul got their things from the back seat of the car. He started to get back into his clothes, but, before he was finished, they all three had to duck to avoid being seen by an oncoming car. Finished, he kissed them goodbye and drove away, feeling a little bad about leaving them, but at the same time, still anxious to find out about Cindy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Now, as he drove down the highway to look for another phone booth, with the pot still relaxing his body and his mind, he suddenly realized that he had wanted something from those two girls, Karen and Molly...he had wanted something more than just the sex...he had wanted to feel something for them and he had wanted them to return his feelings. Sex with them wasn't enough...it was very nice...but it left him feeling a little empty and unsatisfied. But they didn't want anything except the casual, carefree pleasures...they didn't know how to give anything else.
Suddenly, an enormous wave of feeling swept up through him, a longing that he had never recognized before, and with it came a realization that sent uncontrollable shivering throughout his body.
He wanted to love someone!
It sounded so absurd that he began to laugh. He laughed so hard that the tears streamed down his face and he had to pull over to the side of the road and stop the car. As the laughter subsided he sat quietly, not thinking of anything, dreaming almost, when, suddenly, he remembered the thought he had just had and he burst out laughing again.
Only this time he was crying as much as laughing. He realized that he was being hysterical and that he couldn't do anything about it, so he let it happen.
He sat quietly for a second time. He felt drained; he tried to think of what had just happened, but he couldn't. There was nothing in his head except the realization that he had to see Cindy again...that he wanted to see Cindy again. Now, sitting calmly in his car, the motor still running, the soft summer breeze blowing in through the window, it no longer seemed stupid or absurd that he might want to love someone. No, it wasn't absurd...but he didn't know...it was something he couldn't know until he saw Cindy. Now, it was just a feeling he had, vague and ill-defined. And yet it wasn't vague...only when he tried to think about it or think about putting it into words was it vague and slippery...then it seemed nothing and he felt foolish. It was something that Cindy would understand; they would both understand. He took a deep breath and started down the highway until he found a phone booth.
He dialed her number and waited, holding his breath. But no answer. He put the phone down without hanging up, listening to the steady monotonous ringing on the other end. She had to be home...but she wasn't. He stared out through the plate-glass window of the phone booth, letting the phone ring. He opened the door and breathed deeply of the fragrant summer air; the steady brrrr...brrrr behind him was a constant reminder that he would have to decide what to do.
There was something deep in the back of his mind that he didn't want to think about.
He hung up, and with nervous fingers, dialed Alex's number. But before it rang, he hung up. What was it that was bothering him? So many things were happening, so many things had happened, that it was hard to think clearly. Why wasn't Cindy home? Of course maybe he was worrying about nothing...but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He looked at his watch: four in the morning...he was going to feel foolish about waking Alex if nothing was wrong. But he dialed anyway.
"Hello Alex, it's Paul. Sorry to wake you."
"Paul? What's the matter?"
"I don't know, Alex, I've been trying to call Cindy but she isn't home. What...."
"Hold on a minute Paul." Alex put the phone down. Paul could hear a conversation going on and then Alex picked up the phone again.
"Yeah, well Paul, I...."
What was wrong! Why didn't Alex say something!
"All I know, Paul, is that Al...well, he was seen in town near Cindy's place. But don't worry...the police will get him...he wouldn't do anything...."
Paul hung up slowly; he could feel the fear tighten in his chest. He slammed his fist down hard on the metal shelf of the phone booth. Al! He'd kill that bastard if he had hurt Cindy.
He raced back to his car, his mind screaming at him to get back to the city as quickly as he could.
As he sped along the highway, he began to relax a little. There was still no way of knowing for sure if anything was wrong. Cindy might be at his place waiting for him; and suddenly he realized that he could have called...but now, now he didn't want to...he didn't want to hear the phone ringing...unanswered.
He tried to remember Al...but it was so long ago. He did remember the hate in his eyes, the crazy burning hate as he had accused Paul of killing his sister. With a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Paul realized that Al was capable of doing something to hurt him...something to Cindy. An awful feeling of doom swept through him, as if something he had wanted all his life, something that was now almost his, was about to be taken away from him. He shuddered.
He tried to think of why Cindy might not be home, but he couldn't. She didn't go out much. He pushed the car faster and faster and tried not to think about anything.
* * *
He was almost exhausted as he pulled up in front of his apartment. There were no lights on and he knew somehow that she wouldn't be there.
"Cindy!"
No answer. He opened the front door and called her name again.
But she was not there to answer him. He checked the rest of the rooms, but they were empty.
He stood in the middle of the living room, in the false dawn of early morning, feeling tired and dull. He walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face.
The only thing to do now was to go over to her place...and wait. And if she didn't show up he would have to go looking for her. He took two more benzedrine tablets and waited a few minutes for the pills to start working before once again going outside.
He drove more slowly now; there wasn't as much reason to hurry. Or maybe he was just too tired.
There was a light on in the apartment! He hurried up the steps and rang the bell. He was about to ring again when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar; he pushed it open and walked inside. But Cindy's apartment, too, was empty.
He sat down wearily in a chair and rubbed his face. Then he saw the note, propped up against the lamp. As he read the large childish handwriting, which told him bluntly what would happen to Cindy if he didn't show up, he felt his anger mounting, rising, until he thought he would choke.
"Al." He said the name aloud and his voice seemed to echo through the empty apartment.
He sat for a moment, read the note again, then crumpled it up and mechanically dropped it into his pocket. He walked to the window; the sun was just coming up. He wasn't tired now. He watched as two birds seemed to float down through the air to land softly on a branch.
His first impulse had been to rush to the cabin. But now, thinking about it, he decided it would be wiser to wait. He knew Al was waiting for him...to kill him probably...and so he had to outsmart him. He would go up, have a look around and then wait until it was dark before he made his move. That settled, he sat down in the chair to rest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tony was quiet as they waited for Pete to return with the rope. Cindy could not take her eyes off the forest, dark and menacing; Katie was out there someplace, frightened, hiding. Maybe she had made it to the road; everything would be all right if Katie had made it to the road...she could get the police and then the whole nightmare would be over.
Suddenly she looked at Tony. He was paying no attention to her; every once in a while he would pat the dog on the head or talk to it; but for the most part he was quiet, staring at the ground or into the forest; it was as if he had withdrawn completely into himself and had forgotten about her.
She took a step backwards. But a quick glance at Tony assured her that he hadn't noticed. If she could just get away before...but she stopped, her legs trembling, her heart beating wildly. He was watching her, out of the corner of his eye. She imagined suddenly that he was just waiting for her to try to escape; then he would either unleash the dog on her or come after her himself. And it would mean death either way, she was sure of it.
Before Cindy could decide what to do, Pete returned with a long length of rope. Maybe now! Now, while both men were busy tying the rope to the dog! Now was her chance!
But she was too late...too late, too late, they had finished!
"Come on, let's go." Tony said.
She followed, oblivious now of the sharp branches that were cutting into her flesh. She had just one hope: that somehow, by some miracle, Katie had managed to find her way out of the forest.
They traveled more slowly now. And every now and then, when the dog would lose the scent, they would all stop and wait, until suddenly, its black muzzle frantically sniffing and rooting among the dead rotting leaves of the forest floor, it would again catch Katie's smell, then the dog would lounge ahead, pulling and straining on the rope, dragging Tony along.
They had gone about a mile when the dog suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Then, with a howl that sent shivers through Cindy's body, the dog broke away from Tony and raced towards a dense thicket of bushes. They ran after the dog and Tony quickly grabbed hold of the rope.
And there was Katie, trying desperately to crawl further into the bushes. Pete lunged at her and, catching her by the leg, dragged her out. She lay quietly looking up at them, her eyes filled with terror.
"Hold Blackie, Petey."
He handed Pete the rope and then bent down over Katie. She made a small movement, as if to escape. Tony grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the ground; she struggled frantically, gasping for air.
"You were going to get away, huh?" he rasped, his face twisted into a horrible grin. He smashed his fist hard against the side of her face and Cindy could hear the snap of delicate bones breaking. Katie stopped her struggling. Cindy felt sick; she looked at Katie, but her eyes were glazed and she lay very still.
Tony got up and walked around Katie. His face was more relaxed now after striking her, but his eyes still had a terrible, feverish gleam. As he continued to nervously pace around Katie's prostrate form he brought out his knife. Click! Click! Rhythmically he opened and closed it while, at the same time, muttering inaudibly. Then, the knife open, he stopped and once again bent down close to Katie.
"You tried to get away," he said calmly, "and if you had, we all would have gone back to that place." He looked directly into Katie's eyes. "No! No! No!" he screamed. "I'm not going back there!" And swiftly he brought the knife down, plunging it into the ground only inches from Katie's head.
"Get your clothes off," he demanded, his hand still gripping the handle of the knife.
But Katie looked at him dumbly. Her mouth opened slowly but no words came out...only a thin trickle of blood. Her terror-filled eyes met Cindy's.
Suddenly Tony reached over and tore the thin blouse from Katie's shoulders, revealing her delicate, girlish breasts. Moving around in front of her he stripped the jeans from her hips; she didn't resist.
"Give me the rope, Petey."
He took the rope from Tony and then cut it into two lengths. With one he bound Katie's hands behind her back. Still she didn't resist, as if she had no more strength. Taking the other piece of rope, he first tied her slim ankles together, then ran the rope around her neck; she couldn't move now without choking herself.
"You shouldn't have tried to get away." His voice was quiet, but laden with death.
Once again he doubled up his fist. He looked at Katie, helpless now, her slender legs spread. He pounded his fist softly on the ground, then smashed it hard against her delicate, slightly parted cleft. Katie let out an agonized scream as his fist smashed into her, bruising and breaking her sensitive, tender flesh.
Quickly he turned her over until she was almost kneeling, her slender ass raised high in the air. The rope tightened around her neck and she made small choking sounds. Tony ran his hand between her legs and in the warm crack of her behind. His eyes, as Cindy looked at him, had a strange faraway look, as if he was musing about something...there was an awful calmness about him.
"Come here Petey."
Pete walked over and held Katie while Tony searched for something on the ground. Oh, God, the knife, Cindy thought to herself. The knife was still stuck in the ground on the other side of Katie. But no, he wasn't looking for the knife. Cindy edged closer to Katie and Pete, her eyes on the knife. No one was watching her...Tony was still busy hunting along the ground and Pete now had his prick out and was trying to force it into Katie's clenched anus. Closer and closer she moved...still they didn't see her. And then her hands closed around the handle and she jerked it free...she was going to kill them, even if she suffered, even if she died. She brought the shining blade up...up, measuring the distance between herself and Pete...now, careful now. But just as the knife started its downward arc, she felt something smash against the back of her head. Stunned, she dropped the knife and started to turn around. But this time
Tony hit her harder and she slumped forward, unconscious. He stood over her, looking at the knife now lying on the ground, clenching the thick round piece of wood he had just brought down on the back of Cindy's head. He looked at Pete and grinned.
"Hey Petey, you almost got it."
"Yeah, I don't see what's so fucking funny about that." Pete still held Katie's haunches.
"O.K., O.K., forget it," Tony muttered. He stepped up behind Katie and, bending over, slapped her hard on both cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered, opening a little and then closed again. Tony grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. She opened her eyes, but they were dull with pain.
Tony bent over her. His breathing became faster as his eyes traveled slowly over her young body. The knife was in his hand now and it was open. "Yes, yes, you're pretty," he moaned as he touched the skin of her stomach with the blade of the knife. He reached up with his other hand and squeezed her ripe young breast. Down went the blade, down across her stomach, down to the soft down between her legs. "Yes, yes, pretty. No! No! I'm not going back to that place!" he screamed, his eyes closed, his face twisted and contorted in some inner pain. He was motionless for a moment, one hand on Katie's breast, the other between her legs. "You're so pretty...you tried to get away...the police will take me back...." He moved closer to her, brought the knife up from between her legs and rested the blade between her breasts. Then he looked into her eyes. "Pretty and young," he murmured almost sadly. He looked at her breast and squeezed it hard. And, his eyes half closed and his breath coming in short gasps, he pulled on her young breast and sliced through it with the knife. Katie opened her mouth and screamed silently; her mouth opened...then closed...then opened.
"Please...please kill me!" she finally managed to whisper.
But Tony didn't hear her. He was in a trance, his eyes fixed upon her severed breast.
"Please...."
Startled, he looked at her.
"What?"
"Kill me...please, please, oh God...."
"Yes, yes." he murmured, swaying slightly -on his knees. "Yes." His eyes gleamed, he leaned forward over her body. He brought the bloodied knife once again to rest between her young thighs. Carefully, almost tenderly, he parted the delicate girlish cleft...the blade probed...he found her hole and slipped the knife in...the sharp cold steel traveled up...up...deep inside her. "Yes." His body stiffened. "Yes!" He ripped open her young belly...her head jerked back, her mouth opened.
She was dead.
Tony swayed back and forth on his heels. He was groaning. Quickly, with a crablike motion, he moved up to her head. Without looking down at her face he opened his pants and shoved his prick into her open mouth. He jerked twice and spilled himself into her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cindy wiped the fog from the window and peered outside. Oh Katie, Katie...Cindy was crying again...she couldn't stop her tears...she couldn't erase that horrible scene from her mind...Katie ripped open.
Cindy leaned against the wall of the cabin and let the tears flow down her cheeks. She was sure now that she too would die. Oh God, how did all this happen? She put her hands to her face and sobbed uncontrollably. "Paul, Paul Paul," she whispered...he was going to die too...they were just waiting for him.
Pete watched idly from the corner of the room. He wished Tony would get back; it was creepy being there alone...nobody but that fucking broad crying.
Cindy wiped her eyes. She wasn't going to die like Katie...she would kill herself first. Idly she traced the pattern last night's rain had made on the wall. She looked at the roof and saw the hole where the rain had come in, to drip down the wall...oh God, she could see Katie's mutilated body, with the blood dripping.
She jumped as she heard the car coming up the dirt road, its tires spinning, whining in the slick mud.
Al!
Her heart beat faster; she was almost glad to know that he was back. Maybe she wouldn't die.
She listened carefully as the car door slammed and the boards on the porch creaked. But wait! It sounded like two people on the porch. Paul? Her heart was pounding and she put her hand to her chest. Was it really Paul? But she suddenly realized that she almost hoped it wasn't Paul. If they had gotten him too . . .
Cindy held her breath as the door opened. But it wasn't Paul, it was Tony...he was the other person on the porch. She watched as the two men came into the room. Tony seemed very nervous.
"Hey, Al, you didn't answer my question," Tony said as he followed Al into the room. "When's Mason coming? When do we get the money? I want to get out of here...."
"How the fuck do I know when Mason will come? As soon as he gets the note, I guess.
Anyhow, what's your hurry? It was your idea to come up here, wasn't it?"
Suddenly Al stopped. He looked at Cindy.
"O.K., you creeps, what goes on here? How did she get all scratched up? And where's the other one?"
Tony and Pete exchanged quick glances. Al advanced towards Tony, but Tony backed away.
"What's the matter, Al?" Tony's voice quivered.
"What do you mean, what's the matter? I asked you how she got all scratched up. And I want to know where the other one is."
"Hey Al, wait a minute...we had a little fun." He smiled weakly. "We just had a little fun...you didn't say nothing about that, Al. Hey Petey, tell Al...we just had a little fun...tell him Petey...."
Al walked up close to Tony, a sneer on his face. Tony's back was pressed against the wall. He held out his hands as if to fend off an attack.
"Yeah sure, I'll bet," Al said sarcastically. "Now don't tell me this one got all scratched up from you just having a little fun. Is that what you're trying to tell me, that she got all cut up like that from you and Petey having a little fun?"
"No, Al, I'm not trying to tell you that. The other one tried to get away and we all had to go after her...that's how she got all cut up."
"Yeah, so where is she?"
"Well, Al, she tried to get away...she's dead, we had to kill her." Cindy could hardly hear Tony, he was speaking so low.
"So you killed her! You just had a little fun and she almost got away...and we would have had the cops after us. You stupid clown! You want to go back to that place? You love that place so much you want to go back to it?"
He hit Tony hard across the mouth, cutting his lip. Tony cringed, as if expecting another blow, but when none came, he looked up at Al.
"I'm sorry, Al."
"Yeah, you're sorry. But that wouldn't have done any good if she had gotten away. Now would it? You know what they'll do if they catch us again? We'll never get out of that place. But maybe you like all them pretty nurses in their pretty white uniforms?"
"No, Al."
"Listen, I don't give a fuck what kind of fun you have. Even your funny kind of fun...but I'm not going to get caught...not before I get Mason."
Tony looked hurt, but he was afraid to move or to say anything for fear Al would hit him again.
"Shit, I knew I shouldn't have left you two clowns up here alone. O.K., O.K., so now I don't want no more slipups. Understand?"
Both men nodded, but Tony looked sullenly down at the floor. His hand was in his pocket and Cindy was sure he was clutching his knife.
"Tony, you get that dog of yours and tie him outside. And tell him to bite the first thing that moves."
"But Al, it's cold outside. And it's going to rain again." Tony looked at Al and then down at the floor.
"Pete, go out in the car and bring in the food." Al looked from Tony to Pete.
"That's enough, Al," said Tony. His eyes were still fixed on the floor, but there was a sharpness in his voice that made Al glance back to him quickly.
"What did you say?"
Tony was silent for a moment; he began to pace around the room. He looked at Pete.
"Hey Al, why do you always have to be telling us what to do?" Tony asked, almost apologetically.
"Shit. What do you mean why do I have to tell you what to do? I have to tell you what to do because you're stupid. You've got the brains of a fucking bird. You and Pete...."
"Cut it out Al!"
"You and Pete wouldn't last two minutes without me. You'd both be back in that place in two minutes if I wasn't around to take care of you. You've got no brains."
"That's not true, Al. I got plenty of brains. It's just...it's just I get confused sometimes. But it's not my fault Al...I just get confused...."
"Shit!" Al spat.
"Al, I'm telling you to cut it out," Tony warned again.
"So you killed a little girl and now you think you're pretty brave...is that it?" Al advanced towards Tony.
"I didn't want to kill her...I didn't know what to do. But I'm telling you Al, cut it out!"' Tony brought the knife from his pocket.
Al stopped and looked at Tony and then at the knife. He hesitated for a moment and then continued toward Tony. Tony held the knife out in front of him. Suddenly Al lunged forward, meaning to grab Tony's arm. But Tony was too quick for him; he stepped aside and as Al stumbled forward, Tony was on his back. He buried the knife deep in Al's neck. Al grunted and tried desperately to shake Tony loose. Again and again the blade bit into Al's flesh and with each thrust Al grew weaker until finally he was still. But Tony didn't stop...he stabbed Al's lifeless body again and again until finally the knife fell from his hand and he slumped forward onto the floor, his breath coming in agonized heavings. He remained motionless on the floor, even pushing away Pete's offered hand of assistance. Then he got up and looked down at Al.
"Why did you have to say those things Al? I told you to stop it."
"Come on, don't worry about him. We don't need him anymore," Pete said as he began dragging the body towards the door of the cabin.
"He was wrong about us. Petey. We aren't stupid. We won't get caught. I'm not going back there."
"Nope, we ain't going back. Just as soon as Mason gets here with the money, you and me are splitting. Now let's get this son of a bitch outta here."
Cindy watched as they dragged Al's body out of the cabin. When they returned, she noticed Tony seemed calm again...that awful calm, as if he could just forget, forget the murder of two people. His eyes gleamed as he looked at her.
"Hey Petey, look who's here."
Cindy stiffened as Tony walked over to the bed. The expression on her face was a mixture of fear and revulsion. Tony saw it and for an instant there was hate in his own eyes, and that scared her...it was the same look he had had before he killed Al.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
Tony stared at her for a moment and then looked down at his bloody clothes.
"These bother you, huh? Well, maybe I'll take them off...how would you like that, beautiful?"
Cindy shrank back in horror at the thought of being touched by him.
"Come on over, Petey."
Pete walked over and stood by the bed.
"Might be your last chance, Petey."
But Pete seemed only half interested. Tony waited for a minute, watching Pete. Then he reached down and tore the flimsy blouse from Cindy's body. Instinctively, she tried to cover her breasts with her hands. Tony stood back and watched. Pete was now gazing intently at Cindy's half-nude body. He hesitated, wiping the palms of his hands on his pants.
"Yeah, it might be our last chance," said Pete. "Come here!"
Cindy moved backwards on the bed. She picked up her torn blouse and held it in front of her. Pete grabbed her by the leg and dragged her off the bed. Her head hit hard on the floor and she was momentarily stunned. Tony had moved back even further to give Pete plenty of room. Standing over Cindy's body, Pete hurriedly removed his own clothes, then bent down and tore the skirt from Cindy's thighs.
"You sure got a beautiful little cunt."
Her head was still spinning as she sat up. Pete moved forward and, holding her head, tried to force his prick into Cindy's mouth. She tried to resist, but her back was now pressed against the bed. He pushed her head back on the bed and slipped his prick far down her throat. Cindy gagged, but she didn't resist now as he moved in and out of her soft wet mouth. Suddenly Pete stopped and, lying on the floor, motioned Cindy to get on top of him.
As she straddled him she could see Tony standing a few feet away. He too had removed his clothes and he was watching the two of them intently.
"Come on, baby, start working!" Pete grunted.
Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her forward until she was poised just above his throbbing prick. Then swiftly he pulled her down. She gasped as she felt his swollen prick thrust deep inside her.
"Come on now, work!" he said hoarsely.
Cindy rotated her hips frantically around and around. Pete pulled her forward until her soft breasts were crushed against his chest. Her legs rested on either side of his body and her ass was raised high in the air. Suddenly she felt Tony's hands stroking the soft mounds of her behind, stroking, squeezing, pulling them even further apart. As soon as she realized what he was about to do, she stopped moving.
"No!" she gasped. But almost before the word was out of her mouth she felt Tony's prick pushing against her anus. She was helpless to resist. Tony pushed harder, past the muscular ring, into the narrow channel of her behind. Cindy gasped and slumped forward further onto Pete...it felt like she was being split in two. Suddenly she began to jerk violently...she couldn't stop and she moaned as the waves passed through her. Tony too was moving faster; he grabbed her hips, moving hard against her as he emptied himself into her bottom.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paul waited until noon before starting for the cabin, stopping only to pick up his gun from his apartment. He hadn't used it in years and he had to search for what seemed like a long time before he found the cartridges.
While waiting in Cindy's apartment he had debated whether to call the police. It would be safer. For one thing, he had no way of knowing whether Al was alone. If he was, Paul knew he could handle him; but if he wasn't, it might be trouble. Finally he decided it would be better if he went alone...alone he might have a better chance of surprising whomever was up there.
As he drove through the foothills, he tried to estimate how long it would take him. Having been through this country many times, he had a rough idea where the cabin was. He wanted to be up there a couple of hours before sunset to have a look around. At the speed he was going he would make it in plenty of time.
The note had said to turn off on a dirt road marked by a yellow mailbox. The best thing to do, he thought, was to drive past the dirt road a couple of miles...just in case someone was posted there. Then he could cut back and pick it up somewhere between the highway and the cabin.
Yes, there was the mailbox. He slowed down for a quick look. Nobody in sight. He parked up the road and got out of the car. After another careful look around, he started off through the brush, making as little noise as possible.
Half an hour later he broke through the undergrowth and stood on the muddy road leading to the cabin. Still no one in sight. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. He reached into his coat pocket for his gun and, after checking to make sure it was fully loaded, he left the road again.
He had walked about a mile when he suddenly stopped. He felt dizzy; he put his hand to his forehead. He should have gotten some sleep before...but it was too late for that now. He looked around carefully and listened...the only sounds were those of the forest...the piercing cry of a jay and the sighing of the wind through the tall trees.
He sat down beneath a pine. It wouldn't hurt to rest, for half an hour anyway; he wanted to be clear and sharp when he reached the cabin. The blue jay swooped to land just over his head.
Damn, he should have let someone know where he was going; that was stupid; he had left in too much of a hurry. He closed his eyes for a moment; the jay's cry seemed to fill his whole mind.
Suddenly his consciousness was flooded with images...scenes from the past few days...and before, things he hadn't remembered for a long time. He remembered the first time he had met Cindy, at a party. One of Alex's? He hadn't really noticed her until most of the people had left; she had spent most of the time sitting in a corner and he realized now that she must have been scared, not knowing anybody. Their eyes met several times that night, but he hadn't really wanted to know her...it was too soon after Margo. Too soon, too soon. But he had met her . . .
He opened his eyes; he still felt tired, but it wouldn't be wise to wait any longer. Maybe an hour of sunlight left; but then he still wanted to have a look around. He got up and stretched his tired muscles.
He had traveled perhaps two hundred yards when something off to the left caught his attention; it looked like a piece of clothing. He was about to go on, but something made him investigate. He walked over and picked up the blouse; the buttons were missing, as if it had been ripped off. His heart began to beat faster; he looked carefully at the blouse, but it didn't look like one of Cindy's. He reached for his gun, slipped the safety off and looked around cautiously.
Oh, Jesus, there, about ten yards away, under a bush, a foot. He rushed over and pulled the body out into the open. He had to turn away to avoid being sick.
Katie, Katie...mutilated...covered with blood! Poor Katie. The bastards! He bent down and touched Katie's cold flesh...she'd been dead for a few hours anyway. He removed his jacket and covered Katie's face. Suddenly his heart began to pound uncontrollably. Now he couldn't wait until dark...he had to get to that cabin before they did the same thing to Cindy...he might already be too late.
He started running, not caring now about the noise. But wait! Which direction ? In his haste, he had lost sight of the dirt road. He stopped and looked around...feeling panic stricken. But which way?
Suddenly he heard a scream...he stood still...then another. Oh God, that was Cindy ! He raced off to the right, crashing through the undergrowth, oblivious to the branches that were cutting into his skin.
There it was! The cabin...only a few yards ahead now. He had almost reached the steps when something crashed hard against his chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sprawling to the ground. He rolled over just in time to avoid the savage teeth as the huge black dog lunged for his throat. For an instant their eyes met and then instinctively Paul threw out his arm to protect himself. He winced as the powerful jaws clamped around his arm, biting through flesh and muscle. He tried to pull his arm away but he couldn't. With a desperate lunge he got one hand around the animal's throat...and then the other. Locked together they rolled over and over in the mud. Now Paul was on top, both hands around the dog's throat...squeezing, squeezing. Slowly the animal stopped struggling...only its hind legs twitched. He didn't let go until he was sure it was dead. He looked down at his bloody mangled arm. But no time for that now...he had to get inside.
He heard the footsteps behind him, but it was too late, and before he had time to reach for his gun he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull as Tony brought the club down hard against Paul's head.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cindy knew it was Paul. And so did Tony. As soon as he heard the scuffle outside he had raced out the back door of the cabin. Cindy started for the other door, but Pete had picked up an ax lying near the fireplace and told her to stay where she was.
And now silence! Oh God, what was happening out there? Paul! But she dared not move.
"Pete!" It was Tony.
"You just stay right where you are, sister," Pete warned her.
As Pete went outside, Cindy rushed over to the window. It was Paul. Oh no, no, no...he was lying on the ground and there was blood; and then she saw the dog lying a few feet away. She was about to run outside when she saw Tony and Pete lift Paul's limp body; they were carrying him inside. She stood back from the door and waited.
They dumped Paul's body on the floor. Cindy was crying as she bent over him.
"Paul?" She put her hand to his temple and looked up at Tony. "What did you do! You've killed him!"
Tony looked down at her, coldly, hate in his eyes.
"He's not dead...but he's going to wish he was," Tony said through clenched teeth. "Petey, you watch him...if he tries anything, kill him."
Tony walked quickly back outside and over to the dog. Cindy watched as he bent down over the lifeless body. He picked up the animal's head and cradled it in his hands. Then he picked up the dog and carried it a few yards and put in beneath a bush. He walked slowly back to the cabin. When she could see his face clearly, she saw that he was crying.
Tony walked inside and looked down at Paul.
Click! The long blade of his knife sprang open.
'"No, you can't,'" Cindy screamed.
"Get out of my way." There was murder in Tony's voice. "He killed my dog."
"For Chrissakes wait, forget about that dog," Pete said as he put his hand on Tony's arm--. "Mason's got the money...come on now, let's get it and get the fuck out of here."
"No, no, you don't understand," Tony said.
He was almost sobbing now. "You don't understand. He killed Blackie. Nobody liked Blackie except me...and now he's dead. Let go of me, Petey...Mason's going to get what he deserves."
"God damn it, Tony, you're going to queer this whole deal, you crazy idiot!"
Tony brought his knife up until it rested just under Pete's chin.
"Don't ever say that again, Petey."
"O.K., O.K., Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean you were crazy. But come on, let's get the money and get out."
Tony didn't answer. Holding the knife in his hand, he walked around the room, glancing every now and then at Paul. Finally he stopped, turned to look at the three of them and sighed.
"Yes, yes, let's get out of here. Let's get some water or something...wake him up." Tony looked at Paul. "You do it Petey."
Pete knelt down and slapped Paul hard. When he didn't come around, Cindy turned on Tony.
"You did kill him...you dirty, filthy pig...you murdered Katie...." But she couldn't go on; she covered her face with her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.
"Slap him again, Petey."
This time it had some effect; Paul's eyelids fluttered, then opened. He stared blankly at the three people, then closed his eyes again.
"Come on, Mason, wake up!" Tony demanded. "Where's the money?" he added, while opening and closing his knife.
Paul opened his eyes again and tried to focus on who was speaking; but he couldn't, everything remained blurry. He put his hand up to his head and groaned.
"Oh Paul! Paul! You're alive...oh, thank God!" Cindy sobbed as she knelt down beside him.
"Cindy," he mumbled weakly. But who were those other people and what was he doing here? He tried hard to think but the throbbing in his head was too painful.
"God damn it, you mother-fucker, where's the money?" Tony yelled.
"Money? What money?"
"The money! The money!" Tony screamed. "The money for keeping this cunt alive. Now come on, Mason, quit playing dumb."
"Leave him alone, can't you see he's hurt...he doesn't understand you," Cindy pleaded.
"He doesn't, huh? Well, maybe he will when he feels this," Tony said as he advanced towards Paul, the knife in his hand.
"Tony, he won't do us any good dead," Pete said as he stepped in front of Tony. "O.K., sister, you nurse him for a while, make him all comfy. And tell him it won't do no good to hold out; we'd just as soon kill you as not."
Tony and Pete walked away, leaving Cindy and Paul alone.
"Are you hurt bad, Paul?"
"No, I don't think so." His mind was clearing now. He remembered.
"Where's Al?" he asked.
"He's dead. They killed him, Paul...and Katie...." She couldn't help herself from sobbing as she remembered what they had done to Katie.
"Yes, I saw her."
Al was dead...but it didn't make any sense somehow...if Al was dead it seemed they should be able to get up and leave. His head was still spinning around and around as he tried to fit the pieces together.
His gun! He reached into his pocket. But it wasn't there, he must have lost it when he was hit on the head. He looked out through the half-open door...it was out there somewhere on the ground...but Tony was watching him.
"Oh, Paul!" Cindy suddenly began to sob. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I can't help it...it's so awful. Paul, I'm afraid, I'm afraid they're going to kill us."
"Cindy, I...."
"O.K., Mason, the money," Tony interrupted. "What money?"
"The money Al told you to bring with you...for the girl."
"He didn't mention any money."
"You're lying, Mason. Why? Why? Why?" Tony was shouting again.
"Here," Paul said as he reached into his pocket. "Here's the note he left."
Tony grabbed the piece of paper and read it quickly.
"Goddamn that mother-fucker...Petey, he was playing us for fools. There never was any money. I should have killed that son of a bitch a long time ago."
"So let's get the fuck out of here."
"No, no, I'm not through."
"Come on, Tony, I don't want to stay around here...what's the point?"
"You'll see. Tie him up, Petey."
As Pete approached with the rope, Paul stiffened as if he was going to resist. Tony grabbed Cindy and held the knife under her throat.
"Don't try it, Mason. She's dead if you do," Tony warned.
"If you hurt her I'm going to kill you." Paul winced as the rope cut into his wrists.
"You're such a big man! Well, let's see just how big you are," Tony sneered.
He looked over at Cindy; she was clad in her panties and a bra. "Come here," he ordered.
Cindy backed away. She glanced at Paul lying on the floor, the ropes securely around his wrists and ankles.
"I said come here."
"I'm warning you...if it's the last thing I do I'll get you," Paul growled.
But Tony ignored him. He walked over to
Cindy and dragged her into the middle of the room directly in front of Paul.
"She's nice, isn't she, Mason? Walk around a little, beautiful...let's have a look at you."
Cindy walked around the room, her full firm breasts jiggling enticingly beneath the skimpy bra.
"Strip!" Tony commanded.
Cindy hesitated, but she saw that it would do no good to resist. With another glance at Paul she slipped out of her bra and panties. Tony walked over and .ran his hand over her taut breasts; he buried-his fingers in the triangle of hair between her legs. Then, with a quick look at Paul, he took a piece of rope from his pocket and tied Cindy's hands in front of her. He forced her down onto her knees and with another push she fell forward onto her elbows, leaving her full white bottom fully exposed.
"Ever try it this way, Mason?" Tony said as he stepped up close behind Cindy's upraised ass. "She's real tight back here."
Tony spread the twin mounds of Cindy's behind. He undid his pants and rubbed his prick against her tightly clenched anus.
"You bastard!" Paul hissed.
Tony spread her cheeks even wider; he pushed hard against her and despite Cindy's attempts to escape his thrusts, he managed to screw the tip of his prick into her tightly contracted hole. He grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her back, impaling her on his rod of flesh. She groaned as she felt him enter her narrow channel. In and out he moved, widening her a little with each thrust.
Paul struggled with the ropes that were cutting into his wrists, but Pete had done a good job...he couldn't loosen them. Helpless, he watched Tony rape Cindy's backside.
Tony pulled her soft mounds apart even wider...he began to move faster. With a gasp he jerked violently against her, shooting his thick hot sperm deep into her narrow channel.
Tony closed his eyes for a moment. He pulled out of Cindy and turned to face Paul.
"Well, Mason, you should try that some time," he grinned. "Or maybe I'll fix you so you can't...maybe I'll fix you so you can't ever screw a woman...how would you like that...you wouldn't be a big man then, would you? You wouldn't be a man at all."
Paul struggled desperately, but it was no use. He looked into Tony's bright, gleaming eyes. He was crazy; Paul knew it now.
Tony had his knife out as he walked over to where Paul lay on the floor. He reached down and undid the buckle of Paul's pants.
Cindy watched in horror as, the knife in one hand, Tony pulled Paul's pants down over his knees. Pete was standing next to Tony, watching. Cindy looked around the room desperately.
The ax! It lay on the floor only a few feet away from her. Both Tony and Pete had their backs turned. She picked up the ax, and raising it high over her head, brought it down with all her strength. The sharp blade sliced through Pete's neck...his head flopped away, held to his body by only a few strands of muscle. Tony whirled, saw Cindy raise the bloody ax again, aiming this time at his own body, and lunged at her. He knocked her to the floor and the ax went flying out of her hands, almost hitting Paul. Tony grasped her throat and squeezed; she struggled violently but he was too strong for her and she could feel the black waves crash through her brain. With a last desperate effort she rolled over, breaking his grip, but instantly he was on her again and she was helpless to resist.
Paul struggled to free himself. There was only one chance now and that was to get to the ax and cut the ropes binding his wrists. He lunged. It was in his hands! Oh Jesus! Cindy wasn't moving! Desperately he moved the ax around until the blade was against the rope...he moved the blade and he could feel the strands giving way...just a few more. And then he was free! Tony was lying on top of Cindy. Paul swung down hard and the blade bit into Tony's back. He screamed and rolled over. With all the strength in his body Paul buried the ax in Tony's chest...Tony gurgled, the blood spurting from the huge gash in his chest. Then he was quiet.
Cindy! Paul bent down over her, listening for her breathing. She was still alive! Very slowly, she opened her eyes.
"Oh Paul...Paul, Paul!"
"I've waited a long time to do this," Paul whispered as he took her in his arms and kissed her. "Baby, baby, I love you."
Postscript
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION
Incredible as it may seem to orthodox Freudians, there is a difference between the pleasure of violence and what is commonly understood to be sadism. The small remnant of followers of Victor Adler will, of course, exclaim condescendingly :
"We have known this for fifty years! Violence does not necessarily spring from a repressed sex urge, but is more often than not a manifestation of the urge for power."
The unimpressed Freudians will counter with their avatar's dogma that the urge for power, per se, is a manifestation of a repressed sex urge.
The sad fact remains that the various theories about the causes of sadism and/or violence are not of much help when it comes to curing the disease-except in a few isolated cases. As soon as it reaches epidemic proportions, as at present, all over the world, neither clinical nor purely political action proves a sufficient remedy.
The foregoing novel provides us with standard examples of human specimens representing sadism that culminates in sex murder, but also pathological violence as the result of fierce hostility caused by an accumulation of frustrations. Tony stands for the former, Pete and Al for the latter. And what about Paul Mason, the oversexed hero who thinks he has discovered the difference between sex and love ? He serves as a classical example for the young males of our time who confuse the thrill of the orgasm-when experienced with a specific female-with "real love."
Norman Mailer describes in his "The White Negro" the compulsive drive to experience more and ever better orgasms as the only means of emotional escape from social frustration and defeat. He also mentions that the frequency of sexual pleasure cannot be endlessly increased and, therefore, results in a frustration caused by anatomical limitations. This is the point where the need to heighten naturally limited thrills creates the urge for violence. Neo-Freudians have been tempted to deduce from that symptom the postulate that physical violence stems from sexual impotence. The fallaciousness of this is clearly demonstrated in the lives of historically known persons whose cruelty went hand in hand with their vigorously potent sex life: Attila, Genghis Khan, several Roman emperors, the war lords of the Renaissance, and, in the last analysis, all invading armies. One Nero and one Robespierre are not enough to verify any connection between impotence and cruelty.
But, to return to the case of Paul Mason, we may explain the compulsive drive toward frequent orgasms as the growing incapacity of our younger generation to integrate the sexual experience within the gamut of emotional thrills. It could be argued that the hippies have been trying to contrast purely sexual thrills with serenity and peace of mind, but since "romantic love" is considered a bourgeois tradition, the more tender and serene emotions had to be achieved in a "new" way, that is, through drugs. On the other hand, the alleged need for metaphysical tranquility must be questioned if "being far out" and "becoming high" is compared to a "higher orgasm," as claimed by most hippies. Serenity is a steadily flowing river of joy in contrast with the spasmodic thrill of any orgasmic experience, be it physical or emotional.
The Paul Masons of our time believe they "love" their Cindys because the experience of complete, or almost complete, sexual compatibility imbues the sex partner with a value of rareness that may arouse in either of them a feeling of tenderness born of gratitude inherent in a maximum of sexual satisfaction.
For those who regard the romantic love of the Victorian era as an illusion, this tenderness felt for the ideal sex partner may, indeed, come close to what may be called love, although it will fade away with the diminishing attractiveness of the partner's physical appearance. Paul may think his love to be "real" because it arouses his sense of protectiveness when Cindy's life is threatened. On the other hand, this protectiveness can also be interpreted as an intense desire to preserve the availability of an ideal sex partner.
In summing up the arguments concerning the causes of violence, sexual or nonsexual, we are compelled to consider all theories advanced by most psychological schools. Eclecticism permits us to search for purely pathological motives as well as sociological ones. Both are represented in "Abducted."
